The Locum
by Alelou
Summary: Set after "Terra Prime" and just before war breaks out, this is an adventure with Trip, T'Pol, Orions and Romulans, all through the eyes of Dr. Phlox's temporary substitute. Expurgated, nonexplicit version of the NC17 story at Triaxian Silk. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING: **Although this is the expurgated, non-explicit version (the original can be found in the Decon Chamber at Triaxian Silk), this is still a pretty dark novella with adult themes. It includes (off-camera in this version) rape and pon farr -- which in this story pretty much amounts to the same thing – as well as various moral hazards of war and an utter lack of schmoopiness. Please don't even start it if you can't deal with any of that.

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek belongs to CBS/Paramount, not me.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to JustTripn for meaty beta and Escriba for supplementary beta. Also, I want to note that although I am a fan of Lieuten Keen's Doctor Andie, I actually began this story before I ever read _The New Doctor_ or _Renaisterre_. I also decided some folks deserved to move up in rank here, so I ignored "These Are the Voyages." (Never trust historical holo-novels.)

* * *

She was only temporary. _Enterprise_ was five years into its mission, setting out once again from earth for a voyage of exploration. The crew had shown remarkably little turnover, and Kendra Gonzalez, who had only joined up after the Xindi attack, was conscious of being a newcomer in every possible way when Starfleet assigned her as the locum for Dr. Phlox, who needed to attend to a pressing family matter.

There was a genial welcoming dinner in the Captain's mess, attended by the senior officers – and that was about it. Nobody seemed particularly eager to get to know her. She wasn't expected to be aboard more than a few months. _Enterprise_ was passing through known space on its way out, so there wasn't much for her to do immediately although there certainly could be later – the captain had already warned her they'd be passing through a region of space notorious for general lawlessness. In particular, he wanted her to continue work Phlox had begun on agents to suppress the human response to pheromones emitted by Orion women.

Kendra did this as best she could without having any actual Orion women at hand. She used much of the rest of her time caring for Phlox's bizarre menagerie of alien creatures with peculiar medicinal uses. Some days she felt more like a zookeeper than a doctor.

Things looked up a bit when they finally came upon an uninhabited Minshara-class planet not yet visited by Starfleet. Kendra was a little disappointed that no doctor was deemed necessary on the away team, but she hoped she'd at least get some samples to analyze when the team returned, for she was a microbiologist at heart.

The stop did finally bring someone into her sickbay she'd been hoping to run into again ever since she'd met him at that dinner. Commander Tucker had a ready smile and an abundance of Southern charm. But he was not, as she'd expected, part of the away team.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

"Nothing serious," he said with what struck her as studied nonchalance. "I just need 10 cc of inaprovaline."

Kendra eyed him skeptically. He didn't look like a man in need of mild sedation. "Okay," she said. "Show me your medical degree and you can have it."

He flushed. "Just check my file and you'll see that Dr. Phlox and I have worked out this treatment regimen. It's just a precaution whenever, um..." He hesitated.

"Whenever?" she prompted him.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Whenever Commander T'Pol's away for any length of time."

She stared at him, nonplussed. She'd met T'Pol at dinner, of course. She had noticed that the Vulcan and Tucker had a fairly easy camaraderie, but it didn't seem any easier than that between the captain and his two officers. "I guess I'd better check your file a little more carefully, Commander. Or would you care to explain?"

He turned his attention from the ceiling to the sickbay doors, avoiding eye contact. "It's just that this there's, um, kind of mental bond thing. And if she's not on the ship, I can start having ... well, symptoms."

"I see. Could you give me some examples of your symptoms?"

"Depends. There's irritability, anxiety ... general distraction...."

She frowned. "Surely you can cope with that, especially if you know the cause?"

He looked embarrassed. "Well, yeah. But then sometimes there are these intrusive ... um, sort of like hallucinations even though they're not. And if she gets into trouble of any kind, it can get a little out of hand. Which is not so good with my duties and the chain of command and all. So can I have my inaprovaline, please?"

Kendra quickly reviewed his file, her eyes widening at some of the notes Phlox had made. "I apologize, Commander. I didn't realize you were a couple."

"We're not." Tucker's tone was flat.

"But you said –"

He scowled. "The bond wasn't intentional. It just kind of happened, back when we were both dealing with some difficult issues. Now we're stuck with it. We tried to make a go of it for awhile." His voice got husky. "It didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled grimly and said nothing.

"But you still experience this mental connection, even though you aren't together? That must be somewhat … awkward."

He shrugged. "T'Pol and I have already explored our options as best we can without getting more people involved. We've agreed on this arrangement for now. At least it means the Orions can't put the whammy on me. The cap'n's pleased about that, given our current mission. So it could be a lot worse."

She had seen a mention of Tucker and T'Pol's immunity in Phlox's notes about the Orions – now she understood it better. So she injected him, and he thanked her and left.

Kendra went to review two of her patients' files with new interest. There was a wealth of information there she'd never seen before, particularly about the Vulcan reproductive cycle.

Fascinating.

x x x

When Tucker came in for another dose that night, Kendra indulged her curiosity. "You know, I've been wondering something," she said, as she prepared the hypospray.

"Yeah?"

"What_ could _be worse than having an apparently permanent mating bond to someone who doesn't love you?"

He smiled crookedly. "I never said she doesn't love me. We're still pretty close. We just can't make it work as a couple."

"I saw in your file that you lost your child about a year ago. That can be hard on any relationship." She had noted in both his and her file an apparently eager interest at one point in the possibility of having another child. Indeed, Dr. Phlox still had an active file devoted to the project. She'd thought there was an undercurrent of sadness about Tucker before; perhaps she was beginning to understand it.

"Yeah. Well, you know. Family and deep space don't exactly mix anyway."

"No," Kendra agreed.

He smiled politely. "You don't have kids tucked away somewhere, I take it?"

She'd wondered what they knew about her story already, since no one had asked. Apparently not very much. "My children were at home with my husband outside Havana when the Xindi weapon struck."

He paled. "I'm so sorry."

"There were a lot of losses that day. I know about your sister. I saw it in your file." Without thinking, she took his hand.

He looked down at their joined hands and blinked a couple of times before looking at her face. "Guess I better get back to work," he said, and all but ran out the door.

x x x

Kendra got to see T'Pol up close when she came back from the away mission the next morning with a broken arm as well as numerous scratches and lacerations. Thankfully no dangerous microbes showed up in the decon scan, since T'Pol had insisted she could wait for it to be completed before treatment.

"You just _had _to jump off a cliff, didn't you?" Tucker complained. He and Archer had traded quick reports before trading places – Archer back to the bridge and Tucker to hover over the first officer.

"I deemed it preferable to becoming a meal for the local fauna," T'Pol said, as she lay stoically on the biobed.

"Cap'n said she was attacked by a bear-like creature," Tucker explained to Kendra. "Must have thought she looked awfully tasty." He smiled at T'Pol.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him.

"I've got to reset the arm," she told T'Pol. "First I'll give you a painkiller."

"There's no need, doctor." T'Pol took a few controlled breaths and closed her eyes. The only sign of pain she exhibited when Kendra yanked the bone back into position was a tensing of her face. Tucker, on the other hand, suddenly turned pale and swayed on his feet. "You okay, Commander?" Kendra asked him.

"I'm fine," he gasped.

"Would inaprovaline help?"

"I doubt it would make any difference now," he said, still wincing.

"I'd like to give you a mild painkiller," Kendra told T'Pol.

"Surak teaches us to control our perception of pain through mental discipline."

"Bully for him," Kendra said. "But your bondmate looks like he's about to be sick."

T'Pol looked sharply at Tucker. "You should help _him _then."

"It's not _his _pain," Kendra said. "Don't you think you have some responsibility towards him in a situation like this?"

T'Pol's eyes widened at Kendra's sharp tone, then softened with something that looked like remorse. "Of course. Please proceed."

Kendra administered the analgesic and was pleased to see both their complexions improve. "Excellent," she said. She carefully laid T'Pol's arm in a portable knitting chamber. "This will take an hour or so each day for the next four days. You'll need to wear a sling until the bone has healed sufficiently. Perhaps you could keep an eye on Commander Tucker to determine if you have need for further pain treatment? And Commander Tucker, perhaps you can communicate with me if it becomes a problem? "

"Sure," Tucker said, and smiled gratefully at her.

T'Pol lay on the diagnostic bed and stared at the ceiling.

Tucker coughed uncomfortably. "Guess I'll get back to engineering."

"You don't need any more inaprovaline?" Kendra asked.

"Nope," Tucker said. "She's back. It's always good to have you safe at home," he said to T'Pol, squeezing her shoulder briefly, and left.

T'Pol's eyes followed him out. Then they turned to Kendra. "I see you have been made aware of our situation," she said.

"Yes," Kendra said. "But I've never heard of a bonded couple that isn't ... a couple. It must be quite an unusual situation."

"I would have thought a bonded couple that _is _a couple would be equally unusual for a human doctor."

"Well, yes," Kendra said. "But at least I could hope that such a couple is looking after each other. It doesn't appear that I can assume that in this situation." She hadn't exactly meant to sound critical, but it had come out that way. Obviously, she'd lost some objectivity. It was hard not to sympathize with Commander Tucker's situation.

Who was she kidding? It was hard not to sympathize with the lovely Commander Tucker.

T'Pol gave her an assessing look. "Perhaps you are not aware that Commander Tucker is the one who chose to end our relationship." She pursed her lips. "I consider it… regrettable."

Kendra was surprised by T'Pol's candor; according to her training it was unusual for Vulcans to discuss personal matters. "Relationships can be very challenging. Between different species and cultures they must be even harder. Have you sought any help?"

"There is no help available for a Vulcan and a human who wish to be together," T'Pol said.

x x x

Kendra always looked forward to movie night. She liked movies, but she also liked to sit to the side of the room and observe the crew. She could sometimes predict who was going to need her attention based on the interactions – or sudden lack thereof – she noticed from week to week.

It was also prime time for watching the most interesting pair on the ship. Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol usually sat together and shared a bowl of popcorn, and as the group broke up afterwards he always pestered her until she told him what she thought. T'Pol seemed reluctant, and after awhile Kendra thought she could understand why. Tucker never seemed to approve of her take on a movie. Quite often he'd roll his eyes and shake his head, or laugh outright at her. T'Pol would simply bid him goodnight.

"So how'd _you _like the movie?" Tucker asked Kendra one night, after T'Pol left.

"Actually it's an old favorite of mine," she said.

He grinned. "Me, too. T'Pol didn't get it, of course."

"And yet she comes here doggedly every week to watch the movie with you."

Tucker frowned. "Meaning?"

"It's just an observation, Commander," Kendra said. "I confess that I find you an interesting couple. You seem to want to be together, but then..."

"What?" Tucker said sharply.

"When she tells you what she thinks, you roll your eyes," Kendra said. "Or you laugh at her. I would think it must cause her some chagrin, even if she doesn't show it."

"We just have that kind of relationship. She does the same thing to me, believe me."

"Does she? Rolling the eyes is hostile body language," Kendra said. "In a married couple, it's a highly dysfunctional way of communicating. Quite a good predictor of divorce."

Tucker flushed.

"You know, you might consider couples therapy," Kendra said. "It could help you learn to communicate better. Especially since you seem to believe you're essentially stuck with each other anyway, at some level."

He stared at her for a moment. "How the hell do we get couples therapy on a starship? Starships aren't supposed to _have _couples."

Kendra sighed. She had a feeling what she was about to offer was foolhardy. "I'd be willing to give it a try. It's not my area of expertise, but starship doctors are supposed to be generalists, and I have a colleague I can consult with back on Earth."

Tucker shook his head. "It would never work."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Just trust me. It wouldn't."

"Commander T'Pol told me you're the one who ended the relationship. I was surprised, but perhaps I'm beginning to see that now."

His face darkened. "You don't know anything about it."

"No, I don't," Kendra said. "All I know is that it seems a great pity. You never know when you may be separated forever from the people you love."

On that note, she left. She hoped she'd given him something to think about.

x x x

Three weeks later Kendra finally got to do something outside of sickbay. The captain assigned her to accompany T'Pol and several others as they investigated an alien ship that had sent out a distress signal. Sensors hadn't detected any life signs, so Kendra assumed she was going along to help determine how the aliens had met their fates.

But there were no alien crewmen. The small ship was empty, both of people and of any useful cargo. It had been stripped clean.

"Orion," Lieutenant Commander Reed reported tersely to Commander T'Pol. "The weapons signature is unmistakable."

T'Pol turned to Lieutenant Sato. "See if you can download enough information to allow us to contact their home world. We should attempt to let them know what happened to their people."

"Which is what?" Kendra asked.

"We can safely assume the Orion Syndicate captured them to sell into slavery."

"Oh." Kendra had heard about the Orion slave trade in her briefing for this mission, but it suddenly seemed a lot more real.

"If the Syndicate is in this area we may be at risk as well," T'Pol added, and hailed the captain.

x x x

"Are we really at risk on _Enterprise_?" Kendra asked T'Pol back on the ship, as they stripped out of their EV suits.

T'Pol regarded her. "With our level of defensive weaponry their favored method is to transport off a few members of the crew and then speed away. However, sickbay is in the most interior area of the ship. You may face lower risk there."

"I didn't ask because I was concerned about myself."

"It would be a reasonable concern," T'Pol said. "I was once kidnapped by the Orions myself. I have no wish to repeat the experience."

"Oh. Well, maybe I'll try to work up a little concern, then."

T'Pol tilted her head. "This is your first deep space mission?"

"Yes."

"You appear less anxious about it than most new crewmembers."

"Do I? I suppose it's not like anyone's waiting for me back home. If something happens...." She shrugged. She knew better than to tell a senior officer she sometimes fantasized about reuniting with her family in the afterlife, if there was one. Nobody wanted a ship's doctor with a death wish.

"Commander Tucker told me about your family," she said. "I grieve with thee."

"Thank you," Kendra said, surprised at receiving sympathy from a Vulcan.

"I believe the commander feels quite protective toward you," T'Pol said abruptly.

"Does he?" Kendra couldn't help but feel a little gratified.

"If we were not bonded, I would not be surprised if he pursued a relationship with you."

Kendra smiled, amused. "I doubt that." She was only a few years older than Tucker, but she felt ancient compared to him. True, he did sometimes give her the impression he found her attractive, but she suspected he gave _everyone _that impression. The man was a born charmer.

"I believe one might say that Commander Tucker has an open heart," T'Pol said. She closed the locker door with a slightly excessive amount of force. "You're also conveniently outside the chain of command."

"But as you say, he _is _bonded," Kendra said softly.

T'Pol looked pensive. Perhaps even a touch depressed.

"And I would never...." Kendra said.

The look T'Pol gave her was so grateful it was almost heartbreaking. Kendra wondered if Vulcans' reputation for emotional control had been greatly exaggerated, or if this was related to material she'd found in T'Pol's file.

Trellium-D. Was that how two so very different people had become so unhappily attached?

x x x

The next time Tucker came in for inaprovaline it was because _he _was going on the away mission and T'Pol wasn't.

"What are you going to be doing?" Kendra asked, curious.

"Oh, it's just a meet and greet and hopefully we can set up a relationship for buying deuterium when we need it. We don't have any suppliers out in this region." He lowered his voice and grinned. "I just hope it doesn't involve eating any 'essence of the male'."

"What?"

"Long story. Maybe I'll tell you sometime."

She smiled but didn't say she'd like that, conscious of her promise to T'Pol. "How's movie night going?" she asked.

He bit his lip. "I'm trying to behave. I ... I appreciate you pointing out to me what I was doing. I never wanted to cause her pain."

"I don't believe she would ever wish to cause you pain either," Kendra said.

"I know. Though she sure as hell has a knack for it."

"How so?" Kendra asked, honestly curious.

"Well, that's kind of a long story," he said. "Water over the bridge now, anyway."

"Pity you can't get past it, then."

He frowned. "I told you, we tried. We're just not really that compatible."

"In what specific ways are you not compatible?"

He frowned at her. "I need to get going," he said, and headed for the door. But then he stopped and turned back. "It's just basic stuff. There are things you take for a granted in a relationship that you just can't have with a Vulcan. Like physical contact. I'm not talking about sex, just normal touch. Anything prolonged makes her really antsy. She can't really stand to sleep in the same bed. She doesn't _hug. _And when I'm around she never really relaxes. She needs a lot of personal space." He scowled. "She'd make a great pen pal."

"These all seem like things that could be worked on if you were clear with her about what you needed," Kendra said. "It's not like you're getting hugs from anyone else."

He blushed, and she felt her own cheeks flush in response. "You don't understand," he said. "If she's uncomfortable, _I'm _uncomfortable. Even when she's at her most affectionate, there's this part of her that's just so ashamed for feeling that way, and she can't hide it from me. Maybe if I were another Vulcan it wouldn't bother me so much. But I'm not."

"How exactly did this bond form, anyway?" Kendra asked. From the additional research she had done – which hadn't been easy, Vulcans guarded their facts of life pretty carefully – this one didn't sound terribly functional.

He looked up at the ceiling. "Do I really have to spell that out?"

"So it wasn't just the neuropressure. You've had sex."

He nodded, clearly embarrassed.

"Has she gone through _pon farr _with you?"

"No. Phlox believes she probably never will as long as we're bonded. Apparently the female reacts to her mate, and I don't have any Vulcan mojo to set her off. Which is probably a good thing, because if we went through _that _together she might kill me." He was trying to sound nonchalant about it, but Kendra noticed that his shoulders had rounded into a slump.

"It's possible the experience of _pon farr _would improve the quality of your bond," Kendra said, handing him a hypospray with a three-day supply of inaprovaline. "I suspect it could be stimulated with the right hormonal regimen."

"Forget about it," Tucker said. "I need more of this bond like I need a hole in the head."

"Are you sure? A fully-functioning bond might be preferable to an incomplete bond."

"_Might be. _Nobody knows, right? Maybe a fully-functioning bond would fry my brain. I think it's safer to just leave well enough alone. I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but I'm done with this. It was hard enough giving up on it after the last round. I really don't want to think about it anymore." He lifted the hypospray up in a mock toast. "This is all I need and all I want."

Kendra smiled apologetically back at him and decided to let it go. He was right – she had no idea what a full Vulcan mating bond might do to a human brain.

_First, do no harm. _

x x x

Kendra was staring at one of Phlox's leeches and trying to decide whether it was dead or just very, very inactive when the call came in from Lieutenant Sato. "Sickbay, prepare for emergency transport!"

Kendra jumped to attention, then checked to make sure there wasn't anything sitting on the portion of sickbay's deck only recently designated for receiving transporter signals. Then she ran to the wall to call in extra help.

Captain Archer and Commander Tucker materialized on the floor. Archer was on his knees, bent over the blood-soaked engineer. In the time it took Kendra to approach a fresh crimson circle spread out beneath him.

Kendra's heart began to pound. She programmed a hypo with plasma stabilizing compound and pressed it into Tucker's neck, all but certain it would be too little too late. She scanned quickly to ensure there was no spinal damage. His vitals were plummeting. "Help me," she told the captain, and they lifted Tucker up and onto a diagnostic bed. "What happened?" she asked, hurriedly getting the engineer hooked into a supply of oxygen and fresh syn-plasma while Archer, clearly familiar with emergency procedures, cut Tucker's bloody uniform out of the way.

"A projectile weapon of some kind," Archer said. "They hit him with at least two shots, maybe three."

"Were you hit?" Kendra asked, afraid to remove her attention from Tucker for even a moment.

"No."

Miriam Saad, an exo-biologist who doubled as a medic in emergencies, raced in and Kendra told her to prep for surgery. Tucker's vitals had stabilized at far too low a level for comfort, but if she didn't find a way to stop the bleeding he would certainly die.

"I need room, Captain," she said. She set up a sterile field over the patient. Saad worked with admirable efficiency, placing two sedator disks into position on Tucker's forehead, then tucking warm blankets over his legs and arms. Kendra grabbed the laser scalpel from the tray Saad had laid out and headed into Tucker's devastated abdomen.

_**To be continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes and disclaimers in the first chapter.**

It felt like hours later when Kendra's last obsessive scan persuaded her she really had successfully patched her patient's abdominal organs. Two projectiles had passed right through him, wreaking a barbaric amount of damage along the way, though all those lacerations were no doubt preferable to what would have happened if they'd hit him in the same spots with a high-energy weapon. Kendra scanned carefully for anything they'd missed, pleased to see that his vitals were already improving. "Do you know how to close?" she asked Saad, who nodded, so Kendra backed away. She suddenly felt exhausted and shaky.

"How is he?" Archer asked.

Kendra swallowed. "Better than he should be. I think he'll make it." That's when she noticed T'Pol lying on the next table, pale and still. "Captain?" Kendra asked, confused. She'd had no idea she had a second patient.

"I didn't want to distract you," Archer said. "She came in pretty much right after you started and said not to be alarmed, but she wanted to be with Trip. Then she went out like a light."

Kendra squinted at the vitals floating on the display. Vulcan readings were bizarre to begin with. "Miriam, do those readings look okay to you?" she asked, heading for the computer to pull up T'Pol's file. She ignored the sudden disapproving set of Archer's mouth. Would he rather she pretended she knew?

Saad eyed the display. "I think they're acceptable, doctor."

Kendra dug deeper into the file, scanning for anything Phlox had to tell her about a situation like this. Should she hit T'Pol with inaprovaline while her mate was off exploring the distant reaches of unconsciousness? And how they hell did they run a starship this way? Would the same thing have happened to Tucker if T'Pol was the one who'd been shot?

Then she remembered the broken arm. No wonder he wasn't a big fan of this bond.

"Captain, can you tell us what happened?" Saad asked Archer.

Archer scowled. "Apparently these people are quite cozy with the Orions. One of those women started putting the moves on me and Trip wasn't having any of it – and I guess they decided he was cramping their style." He shook his head. "I'd sure like to know why we didn't catch any Orion bio-signs before we beamed down. In this quadrant I'm afraid we're going to just have to assume they're everywhere and take appropriate counter measures. Speaking of which, how's that agent coming?"

"It's ready to go, but I'd feel a lot more comfortable if I could test it properly," Kendra said. "I have it in two forms, aerosol for ship-wide distribution, and injectable."

"Well, I hope you get the opportunity to test it," Archer said. "But if we don't, you're just going to have to go for it. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Kendra said. "Did this woman touch you?" she asked, suddenly keen.

"Oh yeah," Archer said, with a grimace of embarrassment.

Kendra took out her scanner. "Maybe I can pick up enough traces to synthesize the pheromone I need to test against."

Archer stood patiently while she scanned him. There were traces of Orion DNA, but not enough of any organic compound that looked like what she needed.

"I'm not finding much to work with here," she said. She switched the settings.

"I'll leave the uniform with you," Archer said, looking down with distaste at where Tucker's blood had already turned brown and crusted. "After that I'll be on the bridge."

"Sir, you haven't been through decontamination yet." She started scanning him.

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" Archer asked, clearly annoyed.

She kept scanning. "Don't suppose your transporter has a bio-filter yet?"

"No. That's an interesting idea, though."

"They've been testing them at Starfleet Medical. Guess they're not ready to install them yet. I'm not seeing anything that requires decon," she said. That was lucky, since she hadn't exactly paid attention earlier. "Change and shower and you can go."

Archer nodded and headed off to the shower.

She turned back to where both Tucker and T'Pol were lying. She removed Tucker's neural disks and watched for signs of pain or trauma.

In the next bed, T'Pol blinked, then sucked in a breath. She shot up into a seated position and turned towards the unconscious engineer.

"Easy," Kendra said.

T'Pol slid off the bed and headed straight to Tucker. Her hands traced lightly over him from the sides of his head to his shoulders and down his arms before hovering just over the part of the blanket that covered his wounds. Then she took Tucker's hand in her own and held it up to her cheek. Kendra frowned, thinking of Tucker's lamentation that T'Pol disliked touch.

"Commander? Should I be treating you with something?" she asked softly.

T'Pol shook her head.

"So you can still function?" Kendra prompted.

T'Pol ignored her.

"Okay, never mind," Kendra said, and when Archer reappeared in a fresh uniform she nodded at T'Pol and softly said, "She's up, but I don't think she can return to her post."

"I wasn't really expecting that she would," Archer said. "Just keep me informed, doctor." He stopped by Trip's bed and patted T'Pol on the shoulder before moving out.

Kendra sighed and went to lean against the counter next to Saad, who was putting away surgical equipment. "I take it this sort of thing has happened before?"

"Nothing quite as hair-raising as this," Saad said. She lowered her voice to a murmur. "I believe the doctor takes care to leave any mention of the bond out his official reports."

Kendra was annoyed. "Doesn't he realize that creates potentially dangerous challenges for any other doctor who comes into this situation?"

"The captain feels strongly about keeping this crew together."

"From where I sit, this looks nuts! Lose one, lose them both!"

Saad smiled. "I guess he figures they're worth it the rest of the time. I'm going to get some lunch, if that's okay. Shall I bring you some?"

x x x

Kendra ate the lunch Miriam brought her and then put the entire sickbay onto a sterile cycle. It was official Starfleet medical policy after the kind of exposure to bodily fluids they'd just experienced, though she had her doubts about its wisdom. Any sterilization routine that killed microbes indiscriminately risked wiping out the friendly ones and letting the bad boys run wild. She was pleased that Phlox shared her concern; Saad explained that he kept protected colonies of the ship's dominant microbes in stasis for re-inoculating rooms and people after a sterilization procedure. "Don't worry, I'll handle it," she said, pulling out samples. "He has a different set for every animal in the room, including us."

"And T'Pol?"

"Everybody. He even keeps a set for Porthos."

"Tucker first." If anyone was vulnerable to a hostile infection right now, it was him.

As Saad sprayed his skin lightly with "Microbial Mix, Human Male, External," Tucker groaned. Kendra jumped to her feet and ran over.

He was blinking. Pulse, respiration, blood pressure had all risen, which was all for the good. But so had his adrenaline levels. "Easy, Commander," she said, putting her arm out to hold him down if necessary. "Miriam, get me 5 cc of morphenalog."

T'Pol was leaning down over his face, her hand brushing his forehead soothingly. "Trip," she said. "You're going to be fine. The captain is unharmed. _Enterprise_ is safe. Relax."

Kendra was relieved to hear T'Pol sound so lucid. The statue routine had been quietly unnerving her.

Tucker grimaced up at T'Pol. "Don't feel fine."

"You were seriously wounded but you are healing well," T'Pol said.

His eyes darted and found Kendra. "Doc?" he groaned.

Kendra took the hypospray from Saad and injected it into his neck. "Better?" she asked, and he nodded. "She's right. You've had surgery. It was successful and you're recovering nicely."

He looked blank. Kendra doubted he would remember any of this.

"Tired," he said. He looked back up at T'Pol, who hadn't removed her hand from his head.

"Sleep," she told him softly, and he looked at her for a long moment, then obeyed.

Kendra waited to see if T'Pol was going to slip back into statue mode, but instead she turned to Kendra. "I believe he is out of danger," T'Pol said. "Thank you."

"Do you mind explaining what's going on with _you?"_ Kendra asked.

T'Pol blinked. Kendra noticed that she still had a hand protectively clamped on Tucker's shoulder. "He needed me," she said.

"In what way?"

T'Pol sighed. "There is no easy way to explain."

"He could easily have died on the table. What would have happened to you if that happened while you were ... with him?"

"I don't know." It didn't sound as if she particularly cared, either.

"Is there anything I can do for you now?"

"I could use some nourishment."

"You want to take a break, go to the mess hall?"

T'Pol turned her attention back to Tucker. "No."

Kendra sighed. "I'll get someone to bring you something."

x x x

Archer and Reed came down to sickbay later that night, first to look in on the patient – who was still sleeping soundly – and then to huddle with T'Pol. While Kendra and Saad tried to pretend they weren't listening, Archer informed his science officer they were now heading off at a tangent from their previous course, just in case their encounters with these Orions were not coincidental. "I'm not feeling good at all about this region," he said. "Is this the reason the Vulcan star charts have so little to offer on it?"

"Vulcan ships have shields and weapons that are a better match for the Syndicate," T'Pol said. "And of course, Vulcans are immune to Orion pheromones. However, when a vast criminal enterprise has free run of a region, it doesn't bode well for mutually satisfactory diplomatic or trade contacts. I imagine the Vulcan High Command saw little point in expending the resources necessary to establish them."

"What about Vulcan intelligence?"

T'Pol's voice turned even dryer than usual. "T'Pau's administration appears to be just as protective of Vulcan intelligence as V'Las's."

Archer frowned. "There have to be people in this region who'd love to get these Orions off their backs."

Reed folded his arms. "It may be that the Orions offer protection from something worse. Klingon- and Romulan-held territories are nearby. And even if the Syndicate is unpopular, we're hardly equipped to oppose it successfully on our own."

"No, that would take a concerted effort among allies," Archer agreed. "But we can hardly ally ourselves with people we've never met. And I'm not too keen on repeating another first contact like we had this morning." He glanced over at Tucker. "He's been sleeping all this time? Are you sure he's fine?"

"He woke briefly. He is recovering well," T'Pol said with certainty, and Kendra couldn't help scowling a little. Just who was the doctor here?

"Sir, are you rethinking this mission?" Reed asked Archer.

Kendra got up and went to check on Tucker for herself. T'Pol was right; he was doing extremely well. No fluid building up in the abdomen, no fever. She wished all patients responded to trauma and surgery this well. Was this a side-effect of T'Pol's involvement, or was he just unusually resilient?

Archer sounded frustrated. "Starfleet wants to understand this region better, but I'm sure they didn't expect to sacrifice this ship or its crew in the process. I think it's time to have a little talk with Admiral Gardner. I think it's possible they've vastly overestimated my diplomatic abilities."

"You did make peace with the Xindi," Reed said. "And you averted war between the Vulcans and the Andorians on more than one occasion."

Archer shook his head. "We were also pretty damned lucky. And we had a hell of a lot more at stake. I don't see any particular reason to risk people's lives over this stretch of space."

"Agreed," Reed said.

"Do you have an opinion, T'Pol?" Archer asked.

There was a slight pause while T'Pol returned her attention from Tucker. "Alliances in this region might prove strategic in ways we don't understand now. However, I also see little reason to risk our ship or crew for it at this juncture."

"Gardner's argument was that we have more experience coping with the Orions than anybody else, but I don't see that this is such a great advantage," Archer said. "They have more experience with _us, _too. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if they aren't toying with us."

Kendra looked over. She hoped the captain wasn't turning paranoid on her watch.

"Perhaps we should save further discussion for tomorrow," Reed said, and Kendra wondered if he had the same concern. "This has been a rather long and trying day."

"When do I get my first officer back on the bridge?" Archer asked, in a lower voice.

"I would prefer to stay here for now, if you can do without me," T'Pol said.

Archer gave her a tight smile. "I can, for now. I'll let you know if that changes. Maybe you should try to get some sleep." He raised his voice. "You must be tired, Dr. Gonzalez."

"I'm fine, Captain," Kendra said. "This is what I'm here for."

"Well, you've definitely earned your pay today," Archer said, and smiled warmly at her. "I'll be in my quarters. Call me if anything changes."

"Of course," Kendra said, just as the lights shifted automatically down into late night mode. She sent Miriam off with thanks, and did another check on Tucker. Still sound asleep, still recovering nicely. T'Pol was hovering over him again.

"Care for a cup of tea?" Kendra asked.

"Do you have chamomile?"

"That's what I drink myself at this time of night," Kendra said. She led the way back to her little office area and fixed them both mugs.

They sat and sipped.

"I'm a little puzzled about something," Kendra said. "Commander Tucker once mentioned to me that you are not entirely comfortable with touch."

T'Pol frowned. "He discussed our relationship with you?"

"I asked him why it didn't work out. He didn't volunteer much, but he did mention that issue."

T'Pol absorbed that in silence for a moment. "Vulcans generally avoid unnecessary touch. It increases the risk of unwelcome telepathic contact and it is also, of course, a common vector for pathogens. Humans, in contrast, may be quick to touch even complete strangers in friendship or compassion. After years on a human ship I have grown accustomed to these brief social touches. Commander Tucker's touch is different. It can be very agreeable, but it can also be somewhat ... relentless. Unfortunately, if I allow the smallest hint of weariness or embarrassment to communicate to him, he quickly feels rejected."

Kendra frowned. "He doesn't strike me as a terribly insecure person."

"Perhaps not in general." T'Pol looked down. "We have had a difficult history."

"Yet you appear to remain deeply attached to each other."

T'Pol sipped her tea and said dryly, "Whether we wish it or not."

Kendra frowned, confused. "I was under the impression you did wish it."

"I do, but what I wish is arguably irrelevant." T'Pol stared into her cup.

"Because you're Vulcan?"

T'Pol didn't look up. "No, because _he _doesn't wish it. Commander Tucker wants something I can't give him, and human lives are short at best. I believe we must try harder to find a way to release him from this bond."

Kendra narrowed her eyes. "Did you make a bargain?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Offer to give up something you value if only your loved one can live?" Kendra would never forget the ever-evolving bargains she'd made with herself in the aftermath of the Xindi attack – what she had been willing to give up to find her family safe … or just the children … just _one_ child … some remains … anything. But there was nothing.

"Attempting such a transaction would hardly be logical," T'Pol said softly.

"So you wish Commander Tucker to have what he wants. What about you, T'Pol? What about what _you _want?"

"Surak teaches us to master our desires, not to indulge them. I have indulged myself in this regard far more than most of my people do, and the results have arguably been disastrous."

"Not to downplay my own heroic role or anything, but I think that bond of yours might have saved his life today. He really shouldn't have made it."

T'Pol stared pensively at Tucker on Kendra's monitor for a moment. "I'm sure that is more to your credit and his than mine."

Kendra sat back and folded her arms, examining the Vulcan critically. "If you're really set on this course, you need to talk to him about it. Make sure that's really what he wants. You owe each other that much."

T'Pol nodded briefly, though to Kendra's eye she still looked a bit grudging. She and Tucker were both quite stubborn. She was beginning to wonder if their similarities didn't actually cause more problems for them than their differences. "But not tonight, obviously," Kendra said. "I would suggest you get some rest."

"I believe I would benefit from some time in my quarters. Thank you, doctor."

Kendra stayed in her office while T'Pol left. She watched on her office monitor as the science officer headed first for Tucker. As she paused there, he awoke and smiled.

Kendra checked his vitals from her station; he was already much improved. She watched and waited, not wanting to disturb whatever communication might occur. She didn't have a clear view of T'Pol's face but she could see Tucker's smile falter; he looked concerned, and raised a hand towards T'Pol, which fell short when she backed away from him and left.

Kendra sighed and walked out. "You're awake!" she said as cheerfully as she could.

Tucker stared at the door with grim concern. "Is she okay?"

"She's had a pretty stressful day."

Tucker scowled. "No kidding?"

"She was here with you all day. She held your hand for hours. This is the first time she's left."

"Too bad I can't stay unconscious forever. Maybe things could finally work out between us."

Kendra squeezed his shoulder. "A good relationship is hard work, Commander. It doesn't just happen."

His voice was rough. "Could we please not talk about this now?"

"Of course," Kendra said. "Let's just do a quick exam, shall we?"

Tucker suffered her scans and careful prodding in silence. His progress was excellent. "Tell you what, let's get you into some jammies and then try taking a little walk," Kendra said.

He nodded and cooperated, ultimately shuffling along slowly along with her as they did a turn around the sickbay.

"You're really recovering very nicely," she said. "I'll let you recuperate in your quarters just as soon as you start passing some gas."

He laughed, then grabbed his abdomen – no doubt the laughing smarted. "All I have to do is fart a little and you'll let me go?"

"Would youtry to run an engine with a clogged plasma exhaust?"

He shook his head, still clearly amused.

"I'd also like you to drink something," she said, and gave him a choice of beverages.

He sipped obediently, sitting in the same chair T'Pol had vacated fifteen minutes earlier. She filled him in on the details of his injuries and he began to look increasingly pale. "Sounds like I nearly didn't wake up."

She nodded. "Luckily for you the captain got you back here quickly and I'm a far more brilliant surgeon than I ever realized. But I suspect T'Pol might have played a role in that, too."

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Let's get you back to bed," she said, as soon as he'd finished his drink, and he didn't protest. Once up on the biobed, he turned over on his side, away from her.

Kendra pulled the blanket up and patted him on the shoulder, ready to go back and try to catch a nap on a cot she'd set up in her office area. "Goodnight, Commander."

"She always does that, you know."

"Does what?" Kendra said.

He was still curled up, facing away from her. "She always pulls back. She was there with me in whatever la-la land I was in and it was just wonderful, you know? And then, _bam. _She slams the door and runs like hell. I'll probably be lucky to get two words out of her for the next two weeks." He sniffed. "Damn."

"Don't apologize," Kendra said, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically. "Feelings are a bitch."

"I just wish…" He trailed off.

"What?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what to wish anymore. I miss her so much … but sometimes I'm not even sure the person I miss ever really existed outside my own head."

"I think every human who's ever made it past infatuation asks that question sooner or later."

He was silent for a moment. "And Vulcans?"

"I'm no expert on Vulcan relationships, but I suspect that as far as T'Pol is concerned, you're her mate and that's all there is to it."

"If that's so, she has a funny way of showing it."

"She's a Vulcan who believes her mate doesn't want her. How is she supposed to act?"

Another silence, then: "Are you _trying _to make me feel like shit?"

She smiled. "No! Sorry, I'm pretty much dead on my feet here. You probably shouldn't listen to a thing I say. I'm going to catch a nap in the back, okay? Yell if you need anything."

He nodded, and she padded back to her office area and flopped down on the cot, but sleep escaped her.

Her marriage to Ruben hadn't been perfect, though it was taking on a decidedly rosier glow as time passed. Kendra had grown up in a prosperous suburb of Kingston, where her parents had always hoped she'd marry a nice, successful, and preferably Jamaican professional. Ruben's wild-eyed Cuban egalitarianism was definitely not what they'd had in mind, even if he was a noted doctor. Kendra had found all that fiery passion very attractive, but over the years it had gotten a little old, especially when she'd want to buy a nicer house and Ruben would ask why they should need to live better than anyone else, or when he'd ridicule her for her obsession with British royalty or her collection of hats. Their work on tropical diseases was the one area in which they usually agreed. They worked different shifts at the research center so one of them could stay with the children. Kendra had been lost in her study of a new, resistant strain of _Plasmodium falciparum _when her family was annihilated. If the rest of the staff hadn't started screaming in horror over the news reports, it might have taken hours for her to resurface and realize what had happened.

And now here she was, sleeping on a cot in a starship, light years from the Caribbean. She'd joined Starfleet to help protect the planet – and extract her revenge – but by the time her training was over the Xindi had already made peace with Earth.

Certainly Orions had never figured in any of her hopes or dreams for what remained of her life.

x x x

Kendra woke up when she heard the sickbay doors swish open. She looked groggily at her monitor, checking the time and trying to determine whether she really had to wake all the way up or not.

T'Pol's silhouette stood at Tucker's bed. Kendra checked his vitals reflexively, but they were fine; he was a little restless – no doubt dreaming.

The Vulcan reached out a hand and smoothed Tucker's hair back. His eyes opened and he stared up at her for moment, then reached up with both arms, insistently, and she leaned down and let him embrace her. They had a murmured conversation Kendra couldn't hear, then T'Pol somehow fit herself up next to him on the narrow bed and they lay together, his arm clasped possessively around her, their fingers entwined.

Kendra swallowed over a lump in her throat. She was pleased that Tucker was getting the cuddle he so clearly needed, but it also reminded her of all she had lost. She lay back on her cot and tried to remember what it had felt like to lie in Ruben's arms on a stormy night in a house on a street that no longer existed.

The scary thing was, sometimes she couldn't even picture his face anymore.

x x x

She was awakened by a voice she didn't recognize. "Tactical alert! All hands to duty stations!"

The lights shifted up to full illumination, nearly blinding her. As she swung out of her cot the ship rocked under her feet and she fell on the floor. Phlox's menagerie erupted into alarmed shrieks. The ship rocked twice again as she staggered out to her patient.

T'Pol was just turning away from Tucker, who was half sitting up, holding onto the edge of the bed to keep from being thrown off it. "What's going on?" Kendra asked, grabbing at another bed to keep herself upright.

Tucker looked grim. "Someone's firing on us. And we just dropped out of warp. You think I could get a uniform here?"

"You're NOT going on duty!" Kendra said, then turned as the whine of a transporter announced two huge forms materializing just inside the sickbay doors: two gigantic Orion males, weapons at the ready. Kendra gaped. She would have been amazed at their size and the intense green tone of their flesh if she hadn't been so entirely focused on their raised weapons.

Apparently she didn't have much of a death wish after all.

T'Pol had stopped short just in front of the Orions and hurriedly backed up. "What do you want?" she asked, spreading her arms in a way that struck Kendra as instinctive, if futile, cover for Tucker.

They shot her.

"No!" Tucker screamed as T'Pol crumpled to the deck. Kendra jumped in to intercept him before he could throw himself on their attackers; this was clearly a no-win scenario but maybe she could keep her patient alive another couple of seconds, and that was, after all, her job.

She was only vaguely aware of his weight on her before everything went black.

_**To be continued…**_

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes and warnings at the beginning.**

* * *

"Doctor."

Kendra groaned. She felt as if she were made of lead. "Mmm?" she grunted; it was too much effort to form a complete word; even her thoughts felt heavy.

"How do you feel?" The voice was soft and tense.

Kendra blinked, trying to clear her vision. "T'Pol?" she asked. She took a breath then choked and coughed, trying not to gag. Wherever they were, it reeked unbearably of animal piss or musk or both. She allowed the science officer, who looked unharmed, to help her sit up. She blinked at their surroundings: a moderately sized, well-lit room with dingy walls and a bare floor badly stained by organic residue. A couple of buckets sat in one corner. Four small furry alien beings – or perhaps simply animals, since they were not clothed – sat on their haunches in the opposite corner, staring sullenly at them. Behind T'Pol, Tucker lay curled on his side.

"Oh!" Kendra said, and scrambled over to him. She took his pulse from feel alone, since she had no scanner and no way to measure time. Thankfully it felt strong, though his color was on the pale side and his breathing a bit shallower than she would have liked. She looked up at T'Pol. "Where are we?"

"I believe we're aboard an Orion slaver." T'Pol's voice was as calm as ever but her shoulders were hunched. "I have not been able to rouse him. Is he all right?"

Kendra checked Tucker's pupils. "Yeah, I think so. I'm not surprised it would be taking him a little longer to shake off the effects of a stun." Kendra looked around. The creatures in the corner were still staring. "We're the only ones they took?"

"So it would appear, unless they have other holding cells."

"Who are they?" Kendra nodded toward the aliens.

"I don't recognize their species," T'Pol said. "They appear to be primates of a lower order; they have not responded to my attempts to communicate with them in any way that suggests they are capable of rational discourse."

"Why are they here, then?"

"I don't know."

"And why are _we_ here?"

T'Pol frowned. "I have no answers for you, doctor."

Kendra blinked. The fact that they had made off with the only two people on the ship immune to Orion influence struck her as an unlikely coincidence. "Do you think they purposely targeted you and Tucker?"

T'Pol lowered her voice. "We must assume they are listening."

It had been awhile since the training she'd received on how to behave in enemy hands. "Sorry."

The lights dimmed for a moment and the door swished open. A large Orion stomped into the room with his weapon ready and Kendra froze, wondering if this was her fault. T'Pol positioned herself in front of the still unconscious Tucker.

But the Orion's annoyed glance merely flickered over them before moving on to the huddled creatures in the corner. He lifted his weapon in their direction, and they immediately started shrieking and running and leaping about the room in a noisy panic. The Orion missed his first two shots before finally dropping one of them. He picked it up by the scruff of its neck and hauled it off while its comrades continued jumping and screaming.

The horrible smell intensified. The creatures in their panic had apparently urinated or worse.

Kendra realized that she was trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I hope _I _don't wet myself if one of those guys points his gun at me."

T'Pol regarded her. "You didn't before."

"I have more time to think about it now. Plus I have to pee."

"One of those buckets appears to have been provided for that purpose," T'Pol said. "The other contains water."

Kendra sighed and walked over to the bucket – one held water, the other was empty. That made sense. It certainly didn't smell as if the other inhabitants of the room were bothering with it. They were still chittering away amongst themselves as she investigated her options. This was one of the many times she cursed whoever had designed Starfleet's uniforms – probably a man.

T'Pol noticed her hesitation. "I'm afraid privacy is not something slaves are generally afforded," she said. "I could try to screen you if you wish."

Kendra sighed. "Guess I might as well get used to it." She struggled with her jumpsuit. "You'd think they'd at least provide a little basic hygiene. Keep the merchandise alive longer." The furry things were staring at her, so she turned her back on them. "Yeah, I am mooning you little monkeys," she muttered, keeping her back to them. "Enjoy the show. Don't suppose you have a private stash of toilet paper, T'Pol?"

"No."

Tucker groaned and Kendra finished and zipped back into her uniform quickly.

"What the hell?" he said, grimacing. "T'Pol? What's that smell?"

"We were abducted by Orions," T'Pol said, and helped him sit up. He stared blearily at her, then looked around with obvious dismay.

"How are you feeling?" Kendra asked.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

"I don't know," T'Pol said. "I estimate that I have been conscious for approximately one hour and twenty minutes."

The door swished open again and the earlier Orion strode in with another pail. He dumped it out on the floor between the humans and the monkey creatures: it was clearly a dismembered, roasted version of the animal he'd taken away earlier.

To Kendra's surprise, the creatures at the end of the room quickly darted forward and grabbed pieces to take back with them. They chewed intently. "Don't they realize?" she said.

"Cannibalism is not uncommon in creatures that are starving," T'Pol said. "It would be a good idea for both of you to eat while you can."

"What about you?" Tucker said.

"Vulcans don't eat the flesh of animals."

Tucker put his hand on her arm. "Even if there's nothing else available? Is that logical?"

"If it comes to a choice between living and dying, I will eat what I must. But I am not at that point yet."

"The captain would make you eat," Tucker said. "He'd make it an order. You need to keep your strength up."

Further discussion came to an end when the door swished open again and a couple of Orion males walked in, weapons up. "Come," they said.

x x x

They didn't go far. There was a medical lab close by. An Orion woman in typically scanty dress sauntered up to them as they stood – Tucker a touch unsteadily – in a row in front of the two males. Kendra's head began to throb, though she wasn't certain whether it was from the Orion woman's pheromones or the situation they were in.

The woman started with Tucker. "You should be dead," she observed, and ran a scanner over him. "But I see someone patched you up. Hmm." She ran a finger down his front, which made him shy back. "Still not responding to a pretty girl, Commander? Whatever is the matter with you?" She stepped even closer and his mouth set in disgusted line. "Are you shy? Or more attracted to men?" She signaled a male colleague who had been standing in the background to come forward. _"You _try," she said, with a little irritated flounce.

The Orion grinned and proceeded to feel up the engineer. Tucker tried to back away, which merely drove him back against one of their guards, who laughingly cooperated in the process. Tucker's face turned white. Kendra, standing between him and T'Pol, noted the first officer's stance turning rigid, her nostrils flaring, and she put a hand on her arm without much hope that it would help an enraged Vulcan stay put.

The Orion female was staring into her scanner. "Might as well leave off, Tralaan. You are a quite a curiosity, Tucker. We couldn't find any compounds in your blood to account for your immunity, and even if there were any we'd expect them to have started wearing off by now." She scanned Kendra next. "You're quite typical," she said with a sneer. She moved on to T'Pol, who stared coldly back at her. "And you're a Vulcan. We already know your people are immune to our charms. Tell me, Vulcan, why is Mr. Tucker the only human we've found who is completely unaffected by us?"

"I couldn't say," T'Pol said.

"Really? No idea at all?"

"As I said."

"We've been told that you and Tucker are notorious for having mated across species. Is that why he's immune?"

T'Pol just stared stonily back at her.

"What if you were to die? Would he still be immune then?"

T'Pol's eyes darted to Tucker.

"Leave her alone!" he said.

The Orion shook her head. "I'm simply looking for answers here. If I can't get them from you, I'll have to get them through a process of elimination." She smirked and signaled one of the guards, who started to adjust his weapon.

"Okay!" Tucker said quickly. "We're bonded. That's why I'm immune."

"Ah." The woman shot T'Pol an approving look. "Apparently you Vulcan women have an even more profound effect on your men than we do." She turned back to Tucker. "What happens if she's unconscious?" the Orion asked Tucker, and signaled the guard.

"Wait!" Tucker said.

But the Orion adjusted his weapon again and casually shot T'Pol; Kendra caught her before she could topple to the deck.

"You bastards!" Tucker struggled uselessly against the giant Orion guard.

Kendra lowered T'Pol to the floor and felt for a pulse. "She's okay, Trip," she reassured him. "Please don't exert yourself."

"You're the doctor?" the Orion woman said.

Kendra looked at Tucker. Should she answer? He nodded, so she said, "Yes."

"Excellent. That could raise your price. You humans are so fragile and short-lived, you don't generate much interest in the market." She turned back to Tucker. "You see, the doctor says your mate is fine. Just unconscious. So she won't need to know anything you don't want to tell her." She moved in toward him until, from Kendra's point of view, it looked like she had glued herself onto him. "We're told you're quite a talented engineer. Do your talents extend into other areas? They must be quite extraordinary to earn a _Vulcan's _affection."

Tucker's voice was pure venom. "Get away from me."

The woman stepped back. "Fine. Let's try adding some distance to the equation." She turned to the guards. "Dal, darling, please take the women back to the holding cell. Fharat, my dear, you get to come with me."

Fharat, by far the largest of the three men in the room, grinned with anticipation; Dal scowled and pointed his gun at Kendra. "Move," he said. He picked T'Pol up and slung her over his shoulder. "Hurry!"

Kendra shared a last alarmed glance with Tucker and walked out.

x x x

Kendra stepped back into the holding cell and gagged, but her stomach was so empty nothing came up. It reeked worse than ever after their absence – Fharat made a sound of disgust himself and stepped in only far enough to sling T'Pol down to the floor.

"Don't you people ever clean these cells?" Kendra demanded, dropping to her side.

Fharat chuckled. "Oh, we clean them all right." The door slid shut.

Kendra gently untangled T'Pol from the heap she'd been dropped in. The creatures in the back corner, who had jumped up in alarm, settled back down into a huddled mass. The cleaned bones of the comrade they had eaten were neatly piled in a corner.

Kendra was hungry and thirsty. She drank water from the bucket, cupping it in her hands. It was already dirty from the creatures having been into it but she couldn't afford to think about that now.

She went back and sat next to T'Pol and tried not to nod off. With the lights on continuously and no way to keep time, she had no idea if it was day or night, but she was dead tired. Eventually the wrinkling of T'Pol's nose signaled that she was waking; a moment later she shot to her feet and stood swaying.

"How long?" she asked Kendra.

"I'm not sure. Maybe an hour?"

"They have not returned Commander Tucker."

"No, not yet."

T'Pol walked to the door and leaned her head against it for a brief moment.

"Can you feel a connection to him?" Kendra asked, then winced. That perhaps qualified as giving away too much information.

"He is in no condition for this!" T'Pol said.

"I know."

T'Pol paced impatiently for a few moments longer, then abruptly dropped to the floor. "I will meditate," she said, and was silent.

x x x

Kendra awoke when she heard T'Pol say, "Trip!"

Kendra blinked into the endless glare and watched T'Pol catch the engineer before he could hit the floor. The guard left without a second glance.

T'Pol held Tucker clasped tightly in her arms longer than was strictly necessary, then carefully lowered him to the deck. He was moving restlessly but appeared to be half-conscious at best.

"He's been fitted with a neural restraint," T'Pol said, showing Kendra the device embedded just below his left ear. "It is a most disagreeable device."

"Commander?" Kendra asked, patting Tucker gently on the cheeks, trying to rouse him. "Trip?" The right side of his face was drooping and all his movement, she suddenly realized, were on the left side. His pulse was weak and rapid and his reflexes on the right were significantly delayed. "Something neurological is going on here. Is there any point in asking them for medical assistance?"

"I don't know," T'Pol said grimly. "Trip," she said. "Trip, look at me."

But he was oblivious.

T'Pol frowned and leaned forward, her hands reaching out for Tucker's face. "My mind to your mind," she whispered.

Kendra sat back and watched, fascinated, as T'Pol engaged in something she'd only ever read about before. T'Pol stilled, her eyes closed intently, and Tucker stilled too; Kendra could feel his pulse slow and deepen under her fingers.

Eventually T'Pol withdrew, blinking, and sat back for a moment, breathing hard. Her expression was grim. Tucker lay still.

"Is he okay?" Kendra asked.

"No. I believe this device is defective." She raised her voice. "Do you hear me? Your device is harming this man. You must disconnect it immediately!"

There was no response.

"Do you think we could get it off?" Kendra asked.

"Not without killing him," T'Pol said. She rose to her feet and went to pound on the door. "Orions! This man is ill! Your device is damaging him!"

The door slid open.

Before Kendra had time to hope they were actually here to help, the guard pushed T'Pol down to her knees and the female from before stepped up and drove one of the devices into T'Pol's neck. The Vulcan could not contain an agonized gasp.

The woman managed to look both irritated and bored. "If you continue to bother us, slave, we will teach you that silence is preferable."

"His device is malfunctioning," T'Pol gasped.

The Orion frowned and pressed the device she was carrying. T'Pol seized up in pain. Tucker, still out of it, groaned loudly enough that the others looked over at him.

"Look, I'm a doctor," Kendra said. "And I'm telling you, that thing is damaging his brain. What good will he be to you if he's brain-damaged?"

"He could still be dinner," the guard said.

The woman gestured in Kendra's direction then and he came over for her; she felt her knees go weak as he yanked her over to the Orion woman, who grabbed Kendra's hair and pulled her head over, baring her neck. Probes were driven straight into sensitive nerves and Kendra couldn't help but scream.

"Oh, you'll get used to it," the Orion woman said. She frowned and sauntered over to Tucker. Kendra watched through a haze of pain as the Orion scanned him. "Not good, not with the buyer on the way. Bring him."

The guard shoved Kendra out of the way and walked over to pick up the still-oblivious Tucker.

The two women were left alone again. "This thing hurts like hell," Kendra hissed.

"Thank you for trying to help him," T'Pol said.

"I just hope they can," Kendra said. She hated to think what might happen if they decided Tucker was damaged beyond repair.

T'Pol leaned back against the door. She looked as close to overwhelmed as Kendra had ever seen her. "I wonder who the buyer is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes and disclaimers in Chapter 1.**

**And thank you, reviewers! (Especially you sweet supportive folks who _already_ reviewed it over at TS!)**

* * *

Hours later they dumped Tucker back into the cell. He still had a device on his neck but perhaps it was a different one, for this time his eyes were open and he was clearly conscious. However, he looked upset and was making odd grunting noises.

T'Pol caught on first. "He can't talk," she said, looking anxiously to the doctor.

"Can you understand me?" Kendra asked him, and he nodded.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked.

He blinked. His mouth opened, then closed. He held up three fingers of his own. With his left hand, she noticed. "Is he left-handed?" she asked T'Pol.

"No."

"Show me four," she said to Tucker, without raising her fingers.

He promptly held up four left fingers.

"Okay. Now say 'four'."

Again he opened his mouth, but couldn't come up with it. He shut his eyes in frustration.

"It's called aphasia, Commander," Kendra said. "Difficulty forming words. Probably just temporary. It's a very good sign that you understand. I'm going to check your reflexes, okay?"

He nodded and swallowed, and cooperated as she ran through the usual assessment. There was a lag on the right, and noticeable weakness, though it was much improved from before.

"What happened to him?" T'Pol demanded.

Kendra shook her head. "I don't know. Did you sustain a blow to the head, Commander?"

He stared at her for a moment, as if he were trying to remember, then shook his head no.

She frowned. "Perhaps energy discharge from the device caused a lesion in Broca's area. I'm not seeing other deficits, but it's hard to tell. We can't check his reading or writing in this cell."

At this, Tucker shook her arm and gestured impatiently at the floor. With his left hand he carefully spelled out "I-C-A-N-W-R-I-T-E" with his finger.

"That's good, Commander," Kendra said. That's very good."

He started spelling on the floor again. Kendra watched carefully. "H-O-W-L-O-N-G?" Then he looked up at her, clearly desperate for reassurance of some kind.

"I don't know. Normally I'd start with brain scans to pinpoint the problem and determine the correct intervention. We can try some things here. Others…" She put her hands on his arms. "Look. You're going to get frustrated. That's inescapable. But right now that could get you killed. Do you understand?"

He grimaced and nodded and almost blindly reached a hand out to T'Pol, who grasped it firmly.

"Perhaps we should try to get some rest," T'Pol murmured. She glanced at Kendra.

Kendra got the hint and moved away to lay down with her back to them. The monkey creatures were still asleep in their corner in a communal heap. She was the only one sleeping alone.

This also meant she had less to lose. But it still felt lonely.

x x x

Sometime later they awoke when a guard came in and, ignoring them, systematically chased down and shot each of the remaining alien primates, then lumbered off with the lot of them. Kendra stood to one side, breathing fast and trembling at the cold-blooded efficiency of it.

Immediately afterwards, another guard came in and took off with the buckets.

"Something's going on," Kendra said nervously.

Two guards came in and pointed a weapon at them. "Come."

They did. Tucker's gait was noticeably off and T'Pol kept a steadying hand under his right elbow. The guards took them to a fairly large, stainless-steel room with drains in the floor and showerheads in the ceiling.

"I guess it's obvious what this is," Kendra said, trying hard not to think about the Holocaust. If they'd wanted to kill them, this group surely had no need to employ such subtlety.

"All clothing off!" one guard said, and they both stood back to watch with amused leers.

T'Pol exchanged a look with Kendra but set to work stripping. Tucker glared murderously at the guards and made no attempt to disrobe.

"I said _strip,"_ the first guard said, and raised his controller menacingly.

"You really don't need any more current from that thing," Kendra warned him.

T'Pol stepped out of her cat suit and went over to Tucker. She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her for a moment, then started unzipping his uniform.

His face turned red, but he took over from her, though he ended up needing her help anyway because his balance was so poor. In the process of undressing he revealed extensive bruising and a trail of dried blood down the back of his leg.

Suddenly the indignity of stripping down seemed fairly minor. Kendra walked over to Tucker and gently turned him toward her so she could assess damage on the other side. "Trip," she said, in pure commiseration.

He pulled away from her and shuffled to the far corner of the room.

T'Pol, now stark naked, stared coldly at the first guard. "I believe the Orions may be the single most disagreeable sentient species in our galaxy."

The guards chuckled in amusement and stepped out of the room. The shower heads erupted. Kendra shrieked and tried to find shelter from the cold water, but there was none.

After a couple of minutes the water cut off as abruptly as it had started and warm air began to blast out of one of the walls, so they took advantage of the opportunity to dry off and warm up at the same time.

"Guess they decided to clean the merchandise," Kendra said into the sudden quiet when the dryer cut off too.

"This is a more sophisticated sales effort than I encountered the last time," T'Pol said. Kendra noticed that she was staying close to Tucker, and when the guards returned she placed herself protectively between him and them.

The second guard threw a shapeless brown tunic at each of them. No underwear. They didn't need instructions to put them on.

When Kendra bent to pick up her sodden uniform, the first guard snarled, "Leave it!"

They were led back to their cell, which was newly spotless and now reeked of disinfectant. Two fresh buckets sat in the corner.

"Can we have some food?" Kendra asked.

"Whoever buys you can feed you," the guard said. "Our first customer is already here. Hope the negotiations go quickly." He leered at them one last time and left.

Tucker turned anguished eyes on T'Pol, who stepped up to him and put her hands on either side of his face again.

A moment later the door slid open and a tall Orion male they didn't recognize stalked in, followed by the Orion woman they'd been dealing with up to now, and a tall Vulcan who managed to look both regal and vaguely disgusted at the same time.

Tucker and T'Pol looked at each other in surprise and poorly-concealed hope.

The Vulcan immediately zeroed in on T'Pol. He stepped forward and raised her chin appraisingly.

Tucker bristled and started forward but was dropped by a blast of pain from the neural device. "Trip!" T'Pol cried, wrenching herself from the man's grasp and dropping to his side.

The Vulcan stared down at the couple, then turned angrily back to the Orion male who appeared to be in charge. "She's mated!"

Kendra blinked. An angry Vulcan?

The Orion shrugged. "Females of this kind are not readily available in this region of space, as I'm sure you know. However, it's of no matter to us. Your government arrives tomorrow. They have already made arrangements for the human male and I'm sure they would be happy to have the Vulcan, too. Perhaps you'd like the human female? I could give you a good deal on her."

The Vulcan's eyes shifted, assessing her with a frankly carnal interest that made her back up a step, but he soon scowled. "Humans are too fragile."

T'Pol helped Tucker get to his feet and stood there, still holding on to him. "The Vulcan High Council has made arrangements to purchase Commander Tucker?" she said, not even attempting to hide her confusion.

The Orions laughed. The Vulcan looked more intently at Tucker. "Commander Charles Tucker from _Enterprise_?" he said.

T'Pol's eyes narrowed.

He had rather unusual forehead ridges, Kendra thought. And he smiled ironically back at the Vulcan as she studied him.

"You are not Vulcan," T'Pol said.

He turned to the Orion woman, ignoring the male who was ostensibly in command. "You have wasted my time, Zantira," he said, and turned to leave.

T'Pol stepped forward. "I will serve your needs if you will take all of us."

Tucker and Kendra stared at her. The man turned and stared at her, too. "You are already mated."

"As I said, you must take all of us – my mate included."

"You expect him to _approve _of this arrangement?"

"_Excuse _me…" Zantira said.

T'Pol ignored her and to Kendra's surprise, Zantira let her get away with it. "I believe he would agree that staying together is more important than other consideration. You could make use of him. He is an engineer. My other colleague is a physician."

The man threw a much more interested look Kendra's way. "A physician?"

Zantira said, "Taking Tucker is not an option, Vehlen. Your government won't be pleased if the Human engineer I've promised them is missing. You are welcome to either or both females, but not the male."

T'Pol turned on the Orions. "Have you told them how badly you've damaged him? A man without the power of speech can be extremely difficult to interrogate."

"The original request was simply to provide him dead or alive," Zantira said, but Kendra thought she sounded a touch uncertain.

Vehlen chuckled. "And you actually expect them to let you go safely on your way after you provide them with such a high-profile prisoner?" He walked up to Tucker. "Are you willing to let your mate service my needs?" he said.

Tucker's face clouded. He turned to T'Pol with a face that clearly said _what the hell are you doing? _Kendra couldn't help wondering that, herself.

"He's Romulan, Trip," T'Pol said, and Tucker's eyes widened.

Zantira had been watching the proceedings with an increasingly vexed look on her face. "I told you, Vehlen, we already have an arrangement."

Vehlen snorted. "Yes, of course." He smiled tightly. "I think I'll be going, then, for I have no desire to run into your other customers. I do not think we will meet again in this life, my dear. Perhaps you could recommend another contact for me to use in the future?"

Zantira said, "They won't harm us. They rely on us."

"Of course they do," he said dryly. He headed for the door.

Zantira exchanged a look with the Orion male, who quickly raised his voice. "This crude negotiating tactic won't work. We can hardly promise them merchandise and then tell them we sold it to you."

Vehlen stopped and looked back at the man with a smirk. "No, that is true. I fear your fate is sealed. As I said, I will be on my way." He turned back to T'Pol. "I regret that I cannot take you up on your offer, but it would be quite foolhardy of me even if it _were _an option." He turned to Tucker, "If I were you I would enjoy her company while you can." Kendra was surprised when he also turned and gave her a small bow before sweeping out of the room, followed closely by the Orions.

"What made you think he was Romulan?" Kendra said.

"It fits with certain theories that have circulated in Vulcan intelligence over the last decade," T'Pol said, and looked uncomfortably at Tucker. "Highly classified theories." He gave her an angry glare and turned away. Slowly, he shuffled to a far corner and sat down. He didn't exactly turn his back, but he didn't face them, either.

T'Pol stared after him, her expression bleak.

"You know," Kendra murmured softly, "I'm guessing it's not easy on a guy's ego when his bond mate offers to 'serve' someone else."

"It was not a decision I took lightly," T'Pol said, and Kendra thought she detected the same despair she'd seen in sickbay over that cup of chamomile tea – was it just a night ago?

Kendra would give a lot for that cup of chamomile right now. She'd give a great deal more for something edible to go with it. She nodded her head in Tucker's direction. "You could be separated forever any moment now," she said softly, and then retreated to her own corner. She felt the need to prepare herself for the next stage of this nightmare.

From her corner, she watched T'Pol walk up to Trip and drop to her knees next to him. The Vulcan put her hand on his arm and said something Kendra couldn't quite hear. After a moment's hesitation, Trip turned and gathered her in.

Kendra sighed with relief. Perhaps, in the end, that was all one could really hope for in this life. A few stolen moments with someone you love before, like a flash, it's gone.

That was when her two crewmates disappeared in a haze of light.

* * *

**_To be continued._** So hey, if you're reading, be nice and leave a review, even if it's just to tell me why you hate it. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: **Although not explicit in this version, there are plenty of adult themes building in here. As noted in Chapter One, I recommend you don't read any further if that will bother or offend you.

* * *

They were gone.

Kendra stood up, aghast. _Take me too, _she thought desperately, even though she had no idea where. She only knew she didn't want to be left behind.

The room in front of her faded and reformed into a small, dark alcove. In front of her Tucker and T'Pol stood uncertainly.

Across the small room Vehlen stood looking at them all with his head cocked.

"Did you get them?" the Orion male's voice said.

"Yes. And you?"

"They look quite convincing."

"They won't stand up to a thorough investigation. I suggest you come up with a plausible scenario and stick to it. Stand by for a moment, please." He fiddled with a switch. He looked at T'Pol. "You made me an offer. Are you prepared to fulfill it?"

T'Pol turned white but nodded.

He gestured at the door. "After you."

She looked quickly at Tucker, then headed resolutely for the door, her head down. Tucker stood with his hands balled in fists but made no move to interfere.

Vehlen smiled crookedly. He toggled a switch on his board and said, "We're all set over here. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

T'Pol turned to wait for him at the door, her face set.

He turned to address her. "Actually, I won't need you tonight after all. I just wanted to make sure your offer was sincere, because I'm afraid I _will_ have need of you sooner or later. Until then, you and your crewmates will just have to come in useful. Do you think your mate might be able to rig a way to disperse our warp plasma trail?"

T'Pol, clearly taken aback, looked at Trip, whose mouth had settled into a grim line. "Why would he be willing to do that?" she asked.

Vehlen looked pained. "One, he's my slave, so it's either that or something much less interesting. Two, if the Empire figures out what I've just done, they're going to track us down. And I can assure you the results of that would not be pleasant for any of us."

"Mr. Tucker requires food and rest," T'Pol said. "So does Dr. Gonzalez."

"Oh, I'm sure you all require food," Vehlen said. "Zantira is notoriously cheap. But once you've eaten, I strongly suggest you do your best to help me. Also, if you prove cooperative, I might be willing to remove those neural controllers. I generally prefer a more benevolent style of ownership, but I'm afraid you have me outnumbered at the moment."

"You're alone on this ship?" T'Pol said.

Vehlen gave her a feral grin. "Plotting your escape already?" He lifted one of the controllers and gestured at the door. "If you would all kindly move into the corridor, I will direct you to my guest quarters. Though we should perhaps call them slave quarters for the duration. You are my property, not my guests."

x x x

Vehlen's guest quarters, even if he wanted to call them slave quarters, were far more luxurious than their own quarters on Enterprise. There was a large bed surrounded by hangings, a living area with two lounges set on either side of a long, low table, and a small kitchen. Thick draperies hid the bulkheads. He gestured for them to have a seat on the lounges and went up to what was apparently a replicator to order a series of dishes.

"This is vegetarian," he said, and put it in front of T'Pol.

She traded glances with a scowling Tucker.

"Of course, if you ask me, Vulcans are in denial about their place in the food chain," he said to the humans, and placed two additional platters on the table. It struck Kendra that for a slave owner he was doing a lot of serving. "This is a meat and vegetable dish that is very characteristic of my people. And this is a fowl generally served to those who need to regain their strength. I will leave you long enough for a meal and a nap. After that, I trust you will agree it would be best to avoid being caught."

He paused at the door and looked back at Tucker. "You truly cannot speak?" he said.

Tucker stared coldly back at him.

"We think one of their neural devices malfunctioned," Kendra said. "Could you allow me the use of a medical scanner? It's possible I could help him."

"I have a scanner that could serve the purpose," Vehlen said. "You may use it – under my supervision, of course." He turned to T'Pol. "Are you sure you _want _him to talk? My poor wife would have been delighted if I'd lost the power of speech."

"Then you already have a mate," T'Pol said, with obvious disapproval.

"Alas, not anymore. She was murdered … for having extremely poor taste in husbands."

They stared at him. He raised his eyebrows. "I'll give you a couple of hours to rest. Then I shall have to – how do you put it? – ah, yes. _Crack the whip." _He smiled and left.

They ate. The food was delicious – the meat and vegetable dish rather spicy and the fowl comfortingly soft, similar in flavor to chicken soup.

"How do you suppose this Romulan knows English figures of speech?" Kendra asked. _"Crack the whip?" _

Tucker and T'Pol looked at each other, obviously intrigued. T'Pol said, "Perhaps it is simply a coincidence across two slave-owning cultures."

Tucker shared a brief grimace with Kendra, who thought of pointing out that slavery no longer existed on Earth. But of course, it had existed only as recently as the Eugenics Wars. Indeed, pockets of black market human trafficking had existed all over the planet for decades afterwards.

x x x

Kendra awoke and stared up at yet another strange ceiling. How long had it been? She had fallen asleep on the lounge after eating. She become conscious of an odd, intense murmuring nearby. She turned and realized that Tucker and T'Pol were arguing.

He was using his finger to write something in the gravy that coated his plate. T'Pol murmured, "We don't know that."

Again, he wrote, then stared at her.

"He still controls the devices," she said.

T'Pol's back was to Kendra, but she could see Tucker's face and it was clear he was getting frustrated because he stopped writing and just stared angrily.

"Acting hastily without more knowledge of our situation could leave us in an even more untenable position," T'Pol said.

Tucker scowled and wrote something in the plate that made T'Pol frown.

The door slid open. "I require your services now, engineer," Vehlen said. "I think it best to leave you two ladies here, but you will be monitored, of course. This device works at quite some distance, so I would encourage you to behave." He stepped forward and peered at the plate, then smirked. "Indeed." He raised the controller threateningly. "After you," he said to Tucker, who rose and, with a last frustrated look at T'Pol, headed out the door. His gait was still uneven but he was moving better than before.

Kendra peered down at the plate where Trip and T'Pol had centered their dispute. "We're SLAVES!" was clearly written across it.

"He read that," she said.

T'Pol looked over from the cabinets she was examining. "What?"

"Vehlen _read_ that. I could swear he did. Even if he has an amazing universal translator, how would he understand written English?"

"Perhaps Romulans are more familiar with Earth than we thought."

"Then they have us at quite the advantage, don't they?"

T'Pol looked uncomfortable. "You should assume we are under surveillance."

Kendra frowned. "Does it really matter, if he already knows so much more about us than we know about him?"

"It is possible that this is a highly sophisticated intelligence operation designed to lull us into providing information."

Kendra frowned. "Seems like a stretch."

"I agree. But we cannot rule it out. We must be cautious." She began to prowl the room, systematically searching.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"I believe Commander Tucker would say_ I'll know it when I see it." _

x x x

T'Pol didn't find anything useful, other than a few boxes of cracker-like foodstuffs and some devices they decided must be for cleaning teeth. They took advantage of those immediately and gratefully. At one point in their search T'Pol stiffened and turned toward the door.

"What's the matter?" Kendra asked.

T'Pol didn't answer immediately, just stared blankly for another moment. "Trip."

"Is he okay?"

T'Pol looked pensive. "I believe so."

Tucker was returned by Vehlen a few hours later. He looked pale and didn't resist when T'Pol led him straight to the bed.

Vehlen stood watching the two of them, at least until Kendra turned and started watching him. "I brought that scanner," he said, handing it over. "But if you think I'm leaving it with you, you're nuts."

Another colloquialism. "You've spent time on Earth," Kendra said.

He smiled. "Why would you think that?"

"Your English is better than my husband's."

"Why is it that every woman I buy has entanglements?" he complained. "Where is this husband of yours?"

"Nowhere you need to worry about. May I?"

He handed it over. She stared blankly down at it; Starfleet Medical training did not include lessons in how to use utterly alien scanning devices. "Perhaps I should assist you?" he said.

"That would be helpful. I'd like to scan his brain."

Vehlen squinted down at the device and adjusted some settings. "Try this," he said, and handed it over. "I'm afraid I have no idea how to interpret Romulan _or _human brain scans, assuming this thing will even penetrate your colleague's thick skull."

T'Pol looked over.

"Oh yes, he made the obligatory attempt to overpower me," Vehlen said cheerfully, while Tucker reddened. "A foolhardy notion at the best of times. I explained to him that any further punishment that should become necessary will be inflicted on his mate rather than on him. Hopefully that will help him remember to behave in a manner more appropriate to his current station in life."

T'Pol stared icily at him. "Do all Romulans embrace slavery, or just you?"

He smiled. "Unlike Earth's, our tradition of slavery is quite benevolent and well-regulated. Most slaves can expect to be carefully taken care of their entire lives. To tell you the truth, I sometimes wish I had been born a slave. My life would be so much simpler now."

Tucker glared at him.

Vehlen laughed. "Ah, Tucker," he said. "It's not my fault you're here, or that you insist on courting trouble. Indeed, I'm doing you a rather expensive favor. I only required your mate, not you. You could easily become more trouble than you're worth. Do keep that in mind." He turned to Kendra, who had scanned Tucker and was now trying, without much success, to interpret her results. There were definitely areas of his brain exhibiting anomalous readings of some kind, and pretty much where she had expected to find them, but she had no idea precisely what the colors or figures meant. "Do you know what this color indicates?" she asked him, holding it out.

He said. "No, but I know where we could find out," he said. "Come with me."

Tucker and T'Pol both looked up with concern.

"It's okay," Kendra said. If there was a way to better understand what she was seeing, she would take it.

x x x

He took her through a short corridor, walking with an easy grace that she suspected must have arisen from privilege or rank. The room he took her to appeared to be a study. "You received your medical training on Earth?" he said.

"Yes." He must have significant wealth to draw on, she decided, looking around. The fabrics were heavy and lush and the furnishings solid, including a real wooden desk and chair and a comfortably upholstered arm chair.

He sat down at the desk chair and nodded at her to take the arm chair. "So you took the Hippocratic Oath."

She sat down. If nothing else, this was definitely a step up from the Orion holding tank. "How would you know about that?"

His voice took on an edge of impatience. "Kindly answer my question."

"Yes, I took it. Where did you live on Earth?"

"Do you feel that oath applies equally to all sentient beings, or just to humans?"

"You didn't answer _my _question."

He just stared blandly at her.

She scowled. "To all, of course," she said, then wondered if she'd given away too much.

"So, for instance, if your alien slave master had a health issue…"

She folded her arms, oddly reminded of the questions she used to get from strangers at parties once they learned she was a doctor. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I was speaking hypothetically," he said smoothly. He sat down at a computer terminal and spoke to it in what she assumed was Romulan. "Where's the damned model number on this thing?"

Kendra swallowed a perverse desire to laugh. So even alien equipment had model numbers.

"You haven't answered my question," he said, after he read something off to his computer in a language that was presumably Romulan. "If your master required care, would you feel yourself bound by the same oath?"

She blinked. "I…technically, yes. But I might have to think twice about that if helping him enabled him to harm others."

"Then I suppose the question is whether you consider simply keeping slaves to be causing sufficient harm that you would deprive him of care?"

She stared at him. He held her eyes with calm interest but she had the feeling the answer mattered a great deal. For all she knew her life hung on the answer. "I guess I haven't really thought through this particular situation before."

"Well, let me know when you decide." His computer screen lit up with what appeared to be a key to reading the device. "I will translate for you as best I can," he said, and began to read.

It was a fairly tedious process, but he was surprisingly patient, even looking up obscure medical terms so that he could better translate them, or searching for diagrams of the relevant Romulan brain anatomy.

"That looks just like a Vulcan brain," she said.

"Appropriately enough. Our ancestors came from Vulcan. Apparently they couldn't tolerate Surak's endless scraping sanctimony. Though I would be willing to bet property or water rights had more to do with it."

"But being annoyed at Surak is the official story?" Kendra asked.

He snorted. "No, no, of course not. Our daring ancestors were visionaries who refused to accept any constriction in their freedom to conquer others. _That's _the official story. Here, this is supposedly one of two complementary speech centers in the Romulan brain. Is this helpful?"

"Not particularly. Commander Tucker has a human brain."

"Yes, I've noticed. Excuse me a moment," and toggled to another screen. Shots of various rooms and corridors of the ship flashed on the screen, and he paused when he came to what must have been their darkened quarters, because the screen lighting gradually compensated to reveal Tucker and T'Pol kissing each other passionately on the large bed in their quarters. "They are a most intriguing couple," Vehlen said. "I'm curious how they came to be together."

"You'd have to ask them," Kendra said stiffly.

He turned and smiled at her. "I'd have to be a fool to leave these two unmonitored. Besides, I rather hope to receive many hours of entertainment from them."

Kendra folded her arms and looked away from the screen, but the sound quality was good enough to pick up their moans and sighs, and she found herself looking back despite herself.

"No doubt you will think of warning them," he said lightly, still watching the pair. "Of course, they must already suspect they are being monitored in some way."

T'Pol did, but if she truly thought they she was being seen, Kendra was quite sure she wouldn't have pulled off her tunic with such alacrity. Vehlen drew in a startled breath, then laughed a bit guiltily and said, "By the Praetor, I believe I have already gotten my money's worth!" He switched the view back to the scanner instructions, his face flushed green, and said, "Shall we continue?"

Kendra had stood up, flushed and embarrassed and angry. "You have no right!" she said.

"Actually, I have every right." He gave her an odd, slant-eyed look. "I would be completely within my rights to take _you _right now, if I wished it."

Kendra felt her blood run cold and backed away.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, frowning. "I would consider it humiliating to have to _force _myself on a slave. Even your colleague there is safe from me until I require her."

Kendra took a deep breath, and then another, trying to get her nerves back under control. "You are expecting the _pon farr?" _

He raised a brow. "We call it the _ponvau. _You know about it? I find that … surprising."

"I have a Vulcan in my care."

"The old seven-year itch," Vehlen said, with a smirk. "Of course, _we _go about rutting with abandon any time we want, unlike your typical repressed Vulcan – or perhaps that's just the official story, since your colleague there doesn't look terribly repressed to me. But I know the Vulcans consider their mating cycle a deep dark secret. We, on the other hand, erect temples to the glory of it. It's something to look forward to, really. You have no idea how your needs get catered to during _ponvau _when you're from the right family."

"Why don't you avail yourself of a temple, then?" Kendra said acidly.

He gave an odd little snort. "My family has suffered a rather dramatic loss of status in recent years." He stared appraisingly at her. "I'm not sure a human female would be up to the rigors involved. Still, I suppose it's good to know I have a spare available, just in case." He reached out and she flinched away from him.

He laughed. "You are quite appealing in your own way, you know. Such a rich skin tone. Judging from that accent you're from one of the Caribbean islands? Let me guess… Barbados? Jamaica?"

"You never told me where you lived on Earth."

He grinned. "Such a beautiful planet. All that open water. Which island?"

She glared at him. She wasn't giving him anything else if she had a choice.

He just looked amused. "Stubborn, are you? I can look you up on my database just as easily as I looked up the scanner. But suit yourself. So, dare I take you back to your quarters? Do you think they're finished yet?" He turned back to his computer.

She said, "Don't!"

But this time Tucker and T'Pol appeared to be sleeping, nestled together, both in their tunics again.

"Well, they certainly make fast work. I'll have to run that file later and make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Come along."

In the corridor, he said, "I don't like waste. It will be a pity if I have to kill Tucker."

She stopped walking. "You're the one in control here."

He gave her another appraising look. "We'll have to discuss that another time." He ushered her through the door. "Good night."

It slid shut behind her. She waited a minute, then checked, but it was locked, of course.

The bed was closed off by hanging drapes. Perhaps T'Pol had assumed that would protect them from prying eyes. Kendra sighed. Was it better to let them know, or to let them steal whatever moments they could find together?

She heard rustling and T'Pol stuck her head out of the draperies. "Are you all right, doctor?"

"I'm fine," Kendra said softly.

"This an extremely large bed, if you..."

"I'm fine here," Kendra said quickly, and smiled at the Vulcan. "Good night."

She went into the small bathroom to pee and wondered if Vehlen was watching her do it on one of his screens. She gave the wall the finger just in case.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings and disclaimers in Chapter One**

In the morning Kendra awoke to see T'Pol seated on the floor in front of the table, apparently meditating. Tucker was sitting across from her, apparently meditating as well.

Kendra quietly got up and slipped into the bathroom. She wanted a shower, which required getting fully naked. She shot another finger at the wall and stuck her tongue out for good measure. She showered quickly, but the hot water was comforting and she couldn't help thinking that having no privacy was no doubt one of those things a person would get used to if she had to.

When she came out, Vehlen's voice came from a comm device on the wall. "I have programmed the replicator to respond to English commands," he said. "No guarantees on what you'll get out of it. Please be prepared to begin your work in one hour."

"Our work?" Kendra said, but there was no response. She went to the replicator. "English breakfast tea, hot, with milk and sugar," she said. She got something hot and sweet, though it was certainly not English breakfast or any other tea she recognized.

Tucker got out of bed and made a hand signal for beverage, complete with puppy dog eyes.

"You want me to try for coffee?" she said.

He nodded.

"Cream, sugar?"

He wrinkled his nose.

"Coffee, hot," she said, and the replicator created something that smelled like the real thing at least. She handed it to Tucker, who took a sip and looked pleasantly surprised.

Kendra poured her 'tea' out and got herself some sweet, milky coffee instead. "That's better," she sighed, and sat down.

"How's your head feel?" she asked Tucker.

He shrugged.

"Try to repeat after me," she said. _"Dah." _

He screwed his face up in concentration, but all that came out was _"ah." _

"Well, you got part of it," Kendra said, trying to be positive.

He gave her a disgusted look and grabbed her hand, using his finger to write something on her palm that she couldn't follow. "Slower?" she said.

"4-E-V-R?" he wrote, as she spoke the letters aloud.

T'Pol looked over.

"No, I don't think so," Kendra said. "But it may take a lot of work to get it back. I have to admit I'm curious to see what happens when that device comes out…"

His hand clenched on the device as if he might try ripping it out right there and Kendra stood up, prepared to fight with him.

"Trip!" T'Pol said, coming over. "Trip, you mustn't." She put her hand over his. "Please. You know the first rule."

Kendra looked up, curious.

"Survive," T'Pol said, simply. She briefly caressed Tucker's head. _"Survive," _she repeated, and headed off to the facilities.

He bent his head over his coffee.

"I wonder what work he's going to give us," Kendra said. Then she realized how frustrating it must be for Tucker not to be able to respond, and decided she would just focus on breakfast.

He took her hand and spelled "LAST NITE?" She hoped the bad spelling was just shorthand, but who knew with an engineer.

"With Vehlen?"

He nodded.

She raised her eyes involuntarily to the ceiling, knowing Vehlen would hear anything she said. "He helped me interpret the scanner's findings. It appears that you do have some inflammation in a part of your brain associated with language expression and speech. You also have quite a bit of older scar tissue that might be involved or might not. I hope the damage may be reversible. If not, I'm hopeful we can train another part of your brain to handle that work." She lowered her voice. "He said he would kill you if you got in the way."

Tucker made a sour face. She dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned into his ear. "Any chance _Enterprise _will find us?"

He shook his head. "UP TO US," he spelled into her palm.

T'Pol came out and raised her brow at finding her mate holding hands with the doctor. He let Kendra's hand go and grinned at T'Pol.

Kendra smiled, a little amazed at how quickly Tucker's mood could change.

She tried smiling at T'Pol too, but the Vulcan's return look was cold. Helplessly jealous, Kendra realized, not sure whether to be amused or concerned. She got up to see if the replicator could handle their breakfast requests.

x x x

After they ate some items that more or less approximated eggs and bacon for Tucker, cereal and milk for Kendra, and a fruit platter for T'Pol, they cleaned up. When Tucker went to use the bathroom, Kendra grabbed T'Pol's hand and led her over to the foot of the bed. Angling her body to protect her hand from view (she hoped), she pointed up at the bed hangings.

T'Pol looked up. And paled. She looked back at Kendra.

Kendra nodded grimly.

T'Pol blinked a few times in consternation before her face resolved into its usual dispassion. She leaned close to Kendra and murmured, "Don't tell him."

Kendra eyed her uncertainly. Was _she _going to tell Tucker? Or leave him in the dark?

When Tucker came out they were sitting and waiting for Vehlen, who soon arrived. He smiled brilliantly at them and said, "Starting time!"

x x x

For the next four days Vehlen had them scrub his entire ship – except for the bridge, assuming he even had one. Certain doors were kept locked. They never saw anything that looked remotely involved with control, and he only allowed them in his engine room and his study – which turned out to also be his quarters, once you got past a layer of drapes – with direct supervision. But everything else was open to them, as long as they worked steadily. If one of them sat down or even went to the toilet for more than a few minutes, his voice would blast at them to get moving.

Tucker, still struggling with a weak right side, was easily exhausted and would move increasingly slowly as each day wore on. T'Pol stayed close to him, making up for any lack in his efforts. For her part Kendra found the cleaning oddly relaxing – she could forget about their situation while focusing on grease or grime, and she took ridiculous pleasure in the gleaming results. She feared this meant she made excellent slave material.

Each night, Vehlen allowed them to eat and then took Kendra away to his study. The first night he told her everything he'd learned about her – which was quite a lot, including material that could only have come from her Starfleet file. "Who's giving you this information?" she demanded.

He smiled blandly at her. "No one you need to worry about."

Every night he also asked her what she had decided about treating him should the need arise – he continued to insist the question was hypothetical. She continued to say she hadn't decided, which was true. She wasn't sure how dangerous he was yet, and until she did she was going to have a hard time deciding.

He would check in on Tucker and T'Pol regularly. "You told them," he accused her. "I knew you would. I'm not getting any action anymore."

"I didn't say a word," Kendra said, which was technically true. "Tucker's exhausted."

"Should I back off?" Vehlen asked her. "Am I shortening the life of my investment?"

She bristled. "I don't give investment advice."

He smiled. "As a doctor, then. Should I give the patient more time to rest?"

She chewed her lip.

Vehlen raised a brow. "Or perhaps a tired Tucker is less likely to get himself killed?"

She met his eyes; that was exactly what she'd been thinking.

"I am concerned about his inability to speak," Vehlen said. "What can we do about that?"

"Why do you care?" she said. She remembered what T'Pol had said, about this possibly being a gambit.

"Frustration can get a man killed," he said. "And Tucker could be useful to me, if I could ever trust him."

Kendra just stared at him. He actually thought they would resign themselves to this life and serve him faithfully? Or was he dangling some kind of bait?

"Without better facilities, I can't help him," she said. "He may also need a specialist. I'm neither a neurologist nor a brain surgeon. I'm trying to help him with some therapy, but he's too tired to get much of that done."

"I can't get him a specialist," Vehlen said. "I can't even get myself a specialist. I'm afraid you're on your own there."

"If we could just remove the device from his neck…"

Vehlen snorted. "Perhaps someday, my dear -- if you're all very good."

x x x

One night he turned to her and said, "Tell me about your children."

She went rigid.

"Gabriela and Hector," he said, his Spanish pronunciation impeccable. "Five and three, respectively, when the Xindi weapon annihilated them."

"Leave them out of this."

"My children are dead too. Though in my case, it was my own stupidity that got them killed."

"I won't discuss my children with you," she said.

"Why not?"

She didn't answer, just turned away from him.

"I asked you a question, slave!" he said, his tone turning harsh.

"Because this is some sort of sick game!"

He stared at her for a moment, then turned back to the computer, pulling up Tucker and T'Pol in their quarters. Tucker was snoring. T'Pol was sitting on the bed meditating next to him. "Whatever," he said, sounding annoyed. "Polish my shoes, then."

When she was done, he said, "Do you know how to play cribbage?"

She just looked at him.

"It's a simple enough question," he said.

"_Cribbage? _What's next? Backgammon? Tea and crumpets?"

"A friend on Earth taught me the game. I found it quite addictive. By the Praetor, woman, haven't you ever had a lonely moment since your husband died? Would you _really _rather clean the bathroom again?"

So they played cribbage.

x x x

Once the ship was clean and his luxurious wardrobe impeccable, Vehlen seemed to run out of ideas of what to do with them. He told them they could have the day off, and left them in their quarters all day. Tucker raised his head at one point, then wrote in T'Pol's hand that they had dropped out of warp.

The next day they waited, but Vehlen never came. "Think of it as a long weekend," he said over the comm. "I can't be bothered to think up things for you to do right now." Tucker spread his hands on the bulkhead behind the drapes and listened. "IMPULSE," he spelled.

Kendra worked with Trip as she had the day before, giving physical therapy to his right arm and leg, trying to help him regain some speech. He could manage to approximate a vowel, but it was as if his tongue had forgotten how to form consonants. With some effort he could make a _"huh"_ or a _"puh"_ sound, but not a _"tuh"_ or a _"nuh"_ sound. The concentration required for him to produce any sound at all would raise a film of perspiration across his forehead. Eventually he got so frustrated he just got up and walked away to the dubious privacy of the toilet.

"Have you learned anything about Vehlen?" T'Pol asked abruptly.

"Well," Kendra said. "He's said things, but I don't know what to believe. He said his children are dead and it's his fault. That he can't get a specialist for himself. He wants to know if I would treat him as I would other patients. I think he must have some medical concerns, but I haven't seen any particular sign of ill health."

"We need to find out as much as possible."

What was she suggesting? "I'm a doctor."

"He seems to enjoy your company."

"He probably just thinks I'm the weakest link. Or he's trying to decide whether he can trust me to treat him." She looked meaningfully at the bed. "I think he also wants to give you two time alone."

T'Pol frowned, then looked up at Kendra with concern. "Does he attempt…?" She raised her eyebrows and let the question trail off, but Kendra thought she knew what she was asking.

Kendra shook her head. "No. Not … seriously."

"Are you afraid of him?"

Kendra was suddenly very conscious that Vehlen might be privy to their conversation. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he scared her. "No," she lied.

x x x

Vehlen didn't come for her that night either. Then he didn't come again for the third morning. They didn't even get a message from him. "Maybe dead," Tucker spelled into T'Pol's hand, which she said aloud for Kendra's benefit.

T'Pol said, "Perhaps he has left the ship for a period of time."

Kendra raised her voice. "What's up, Vehlen? Don't you have any work for us?"

No response.

Tucker shook his head impatiently. With hand signals he indicated his very strong feeling that they should try to escape _now._

T'Pol stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He promptly got up and went to one of the cabinets in the kitchen, ripped it off its hinges, pulled the hinge out, and took it over to the door, where he started to pry open the door controls. When the door slid open a few inches, an alarm began to sound.

Involuntarily, they paused a moment, expecting retaliation of some kind, but nothing happened. So Tucker got further into the compartment, ripped out components, and the alarm silenced.

T'Pol pushed the door open the rest of the way. They hesitated again, still expecting punishment to fall upon them. It didn't.

Soon they were in the corridor. Tucker headed straight for one of the doors they hadn't been permitted access to and started working on gaining access. He was nearly in when T'Pol suddenly gasped. She dropped to the floor as her body jerked to an unseen hand.

Tucker dropped to her side. He began to yell inarticulately, sounding even more agonized than she did. T'Pol's gasps were becoming choked screams.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it, Vehlen!" Kendra screamed over Tucker's frantic howling.

Finally, the device must have been shut off, for T'Pol lay still, her eyes fluttering. Trip pulled her into his arms. Tears were rolling down his face.

"Back to your quarters," Vehlen's voice came. It sounded strained.

"Come on," Kendra said, and helped a trembling Tucker hoist T'Pol, who was a dead weight. They stumbled back into their quarters and lay the limp Vulcan on the bed. T'Pol's eyes rolled in their sockets.

Kendra checked her vitals and was heartened as T'Pol began to take deeper, longer breaths and finally regained control of her eyes. The Vulcan reached out a hand for Tucker, and Kendra backed off, leaving them to each other. She walked to the door, which still stood wide open and disabled.

"My quarters, doctor," Vehlen's voice said. "Now."

She looked over at her comrades. Tucker's face communicated rage and helplessness; T'Pol was simply dazed.

A sharp stab of pain shot reverberated down her spine, just enough to remind her of the device she was wearing. She couldn't imagine enduring it for as long as T'Pol had.

"I'm coming!" she said, and went quickly.

_To be continued…_

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimers and warnings in Chapter One.**

* * *

Vehlen lay propped up on his bed, on top of the luxurious brocade covers, the control device in his hands. He was dressed in a rumpled robe. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his eyes were dark-rimmed. Strong incense wafted lazily from a small burner on his bedside table, not quite covering a more repellent smell – spoiled food, perhaps, for dirty dishes sat piled on a tray on his desk.

She stood at the side of his bed and stared down at him, instinctive professional concern warring with her fury.

"I require care," he panted.

She just glared at him.

"Are you going to treat me?"

"I suppose if I don't, you'll torture me?"

"You broke out of your quarters!"

"Your absence had become conspicuous. For all we knew you were dead."

He just lay there for a moment, panting. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Well, the day is young."

He blinked up at his bed hangings. "Get me some water."

She went and got some from the adjoining bathroom and put it on the bedside table, then folded her arms and waited, staring stonily across the room.

He huffed impatiently. "Help me."

"Help you what?"

"Help me drink!"

"Give me that controller."

He held it further away from her. "Are you insane?"

She leaned over him and spoke extremely clearly. "Listen to me. You give me the controller, and I will take care of you as best I can. You hang onto it, and use the threat of violence to make me do what you command, and I won't do a damned thing that you _don't _command. So you better know exactly what you need, because that's all you're going to get."

"You will serve your master!" he said hoarsely, and tabbed the control.

She screamed and collapsed as spikes of pain drove themselves down her spine and up into her head. Then she was on the floor next to his bed, trembling and nauseated.

"Serve me!" he said.

"Screw you!"

Once more she was jerked taut by sheer agony. When it was over, she did throw up. Helpless tears rolled down her face.

"Get up," he gasped.

She spit to clear her mouth and shakily rose to her feet.

"Serve your master."

She edged around the puddle of vomit on the floor and held the glass of water up to him. Her hand was still trembling and he put his own hand over hers to steady it but that only made it apparent that his was not exactly steady either. Still, it was clear that he still possessed some strength – enough that she thought better of simply lunging and ripping the controller out of his other hand.

His careful swallows appeared painful. The heat coming off him was shocking, and his eyes were glassy. If he were her patient, she would work on cooling him down, ask him about his symptoms, get the scanner, try to make a diagnosis.

But he was her captor, not her patient.

"So, _are _you dying?" she asked when he was finished drinking. She didn't bother to sound anything less than hopeful.

He gave her a baleful look. "You're the doctor."

"I'm not a doctor, I'm a _slave."_

He shifted uncomfortably. "These attacks … are intermittent. From a parasite endemic to the planet where I made my most recent home…" He trailed off and shifted painfully on the bed. "I just need treatment of the symptoms." The hand that wasn't holding the controller tightened over his middle. "But my heart...has suffered some damage. And I suspect there may be a … complicating condition."

"Is this thing contagious?"

"No." He gave her an imploring look. "Help me."

She said nothing, just waited coldly.

"Don't be so horrible!" he cried.

She folded her arms.

He panted. "We need to reduce my fever."

"How?"

His respiration was getting shallower, more rapid; his eyes were practically rolling back in his head. "Please," he gasped.

She waited, half-expecting another round of pain but willing to risk it.

He muttered something in a language she didn't recognize. She eyed the controller. One well-timed lunge and she'd have it. The only problem was that he might then grab _her, _if he had the strength left. If she simply waited, it was quite possible he'd just pass out. Of course, there was also the risk he'd have a seizure and set the thing off without being able to stop it again.

"Fine, take it!" he said, suddenly, and shocked her by handing it over.

She took it from him gingerly and stared down at it. Now what? She wanted nothing more than to shut this thing down forever, but she didn't even know how to do that.

"Perhaps you should give that to us," T'Pol's voice said.

Kendra jumped and looked over at the doorway. Tucker and T'Pol were making their way into the room. Kendra swallowed and wondered how much they had seen. It wasn't anything she'd particularly want a medical board to have witnessed.

Vehlen began to laugh bitterly. "Don't forget, we had a deal!" He laughed again before lapsing into another tongue, presumably Romulan.

"What is the matter with him?" T'Pol asked. She took the controller from Kendra and handed it to Tucker, who immediately walked over to Vehlen's desk and started searching for tools.

"High fever," Kendra said. "I'm not sure what else. Apparently it's a recurrence of something."

"Is it contagious?"

"He says not. Do you see his scanner over there?" she asked Tucker.

He stopped in his search and gave her a disbelieving look.

"I promised I'd help him if he gave me the controller," she said.

Tucker turned to T'Pol, clearly expecting her to be the voice of reason.

"I can't just leave a man to die," Kendra said, though the truth was that she could fairly easily be talked into doing just that in this particular case.

T'Pol went over to the Vehlen's desk and found the scanner after a brief search. She brought it over. "Do you know how to use it?"

"He helped me use it on Commander Tucker the other night," she said, and began to scan. She frowned and handed it to T'Pol. "Can you read any of this?"

T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I would be able to?"

"Maybe because Romulans look like Vulcans?" Kendra said.

Tucker looked over.

T'Pol's voice stiffened. "Surely his behavior makes it clear the two species are quite different?"

"From where I'm standing you don't look like two different species at all," Kendra said. "More like two different ethno-groups of the same species." She scanned T'Pol. "Assuming I'm right that this is your pulse and yours is normal, his is quite elevated. It's up in this green area up here. And there's something flashing here that looks important, but I don't know what it means."

"Ancient Vulcan uses a similar ideograph for the concept _disorganization_," T'Pol said grudgingly.

Kendra bit her lip. Was it ridiculous that she felt guilty for promising to help Vehlen when she was rapidly realizing she didn't have a clue how to treat him?

She went into the adjacent bathroom and found a washcloth, which she doused with water and wiped across Vehlen's head and neck. He appeared to be half-conscious at best. She opened his robe and moved down his chest, in the process making interesting discoveries. "He's been stabbed a couple of times … he has a fairly significant high-energy burn scar here … and … look – I think this is a recent surgical scar."

"Over his heart," T'Pol said.

Kendra tried to use the scanner to get a look at the heart rhythm but soon grew frustrated and simply put her ear down over what would have been the stomach on a human. "It's not very regular."

"Atrial fibrillation is a common symptom of high fever in Vulcans," T'Pol said.

"I'd like to set up an IV. He must be dehydrated." She looked around helplessly. "Don't suppose you've noticed a sickbay anywhere?"

Tucker came over and gave T'Pol the remains of the disassembled controller. He motioned at the device on T'Pol's neck.

"Perhaps we should first concentrate on determining our location," T'Pol told him. "We should head for Earth as soon as possible."

At this, Vehlen stirred. "You mustn't!" he said, his voice hoarse.

Tucker scowled.

T'Pol drew herself up. "Mr. Vehlen, in accordance with Starfleet regulation 148 paragraph 16, I hereby confiscate this vessel and declare you a prisoner of Starfleet on the basis of extreme criminal behavior – specifically, the torture and enslavement of Starfleet personnel. Any statements you make may be used against you in a court of law. If you wish to return to Earth with us to face charges, you may obtain legal counsel, or it will be appointed for you."

Tucker looked at her like she was nuts and Vehlen also seemed perplexed. "Three Birds of Prey!" he gasped.

"Excuse me?"

"In higher orbit. If you move, they'll be on us. You'll be captured. I'll be dead." He glared at Kendra. "Sooner than otherwise."

Tucker and T'Pol exchanged glances. "Why haven't they detected us?" T'Pol asked.

"We're cloaked," Vehlen said. "But my cloak is rudimentary. We're also in the shadow of a large orbital satellite."

"We'll proceed with caution for now," T'Pol said to Tucker, who nodded.

"No transmissions!" Vehlen said. "No scans!"

Tucker frowned and gave T'Pol a look that clearly communicated his skepticism.

"Our priorities should be to determine ship status, secure any weapons or controllers we can find, attempt to verify the prisoner's claims, and then move on from there," T'Pol said. She turned to Kendra. "We must secure him as well."

"Why don't we install one of these things in his neck," Kendra said, scowling down at her patient, who looked away.

T'Pol said, "Perhaps the tie on his robe, if we can't find something more appropriate." She began a search.

"I still need to treat him," Kendra said.

"The Commander and I cannot leave you alone with him if he is not secure," T'Pol said.

"Fine," Kendra said. "Just let me know if you see anything that looks like an IV while you're at it." She turned to Vehlen. "Do you know what I'm talking about? Do you have medical supplies stowed somewhere?"

He ignored her, so she pulled out the top drawer of his bedside table. Her eyebrows went up, and she pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs. They appeared to be the genuine antique. A key hung off them. "Commander, would this do?" she asked, and held them up.

Tucker and T'Pol exchanged raised eyebrows of their own. Vehlen saw what she was holding up and flushed.

T'Pol tested the cuffs and decided they would prove effective, then tested the strength of the bed frame. "If you please," she said to the prisoner, who reluctantly raised his hands.

"And you said it would be _humiliating _to force yourself on a slave," Kendra muttered.

Vehlen glared at her, his mouth set in a grim line.

She went back into the drawer with some trepidation, but didn't come up with anything more damning than some data pads of unknown provenance. Given the other contents of the drawer, she wasn't terribly keen on opening any of the programs, so she handed them over to T'Pol.

"Come on, Vehlen," she said. "No hypospray? No medicines at all?"

"Nothing," he said, his face turned away.

"With all the resources you have at your disposal?"

"My last doctor attempted to take my supplies with him when he left. They were vaporized along with him." He scowled. "He didn't have my permission to leave."

Tucker made an odd _"Ah"_ sound – Kendra figured it was the nearest he could come to saying "T'Pol" – and they turned around to find him holding up a weapon.

"Excellent," T'Pol said. "Doctor, we will leave you to your patient for now."

Then they were alone again. Kendra sighed and said, "Well, I guess we'd better try to get some more liquid into you the only way we can. Sit up, it will spill less."

He pushed himself upright with more strength than she'd expected and took the water she brought to his lips. He stared away from her, across the room, and obediently took swallow after swallow. Finally, he slumped back and she put the glass away.

She dampened the towel in the bathroom and began to sponge him down again.

"I wouldn't use them on anyone who didn't _want _me to," he said.

"What?" Kendra said, confused.

He shook his arms impatiently, rattling the cuffs against the frame.

This was certainly not something she wanted to discuss with him. "Look, I really don't need to know _anything _about that."

"I picked them up on Earth."

Damn. She _did _want to know more about that. "Where on Earth?"

"San Francisco. Interesting place." He smirked.

"That's where you lived?"

He frowned and closed his eyes. "That feels good," he said, ignoring her question.

"You must have lived there for awhile, to be as fluent as you are."

"Long enough to seek a little companionship." He opened his eyes again and stared back at her, jutting his chin defiantly. "I found that certain practices were ideal for maintaining my cover. Though I have to admit some of them had an appeal that went quite beyond practical considerations." He lowered his voice. "Have you ever let a man tie you up for the sheer pleasure of being under his control?"

Kendra drew back with a disgusted frown. "Your companions didn't think it was strange that a Vulcan wanted to tie them up?"

"Vulcan?" he said derisively. "A _Vulcan_ would have been far too conspicuous in my position."

"You tried to pass as human?" She continued sponging him, trying to keep her tone conversational, trying to keep the information coming.

"I didn't _try. _I succeeded. Brilliantly."

"Nobody noticed the ears? The skin tone? The forehead?"

"Oh, I made the requisite attempts at disguise, but it was hardly necessary. Humans notice what they _want_ to notice, what they _expect _to notice. Willful blindness is one your species' most notable traits. There were several times when I should have been exposed, yet was not."

"So how long were you there?"

"Too long. I understood your planet quite well by the time I left, but I had become dangerously uninformed about my own."

She went to rinse the cloth and returned. "What kind of information were you gathering?"

He regarded her. "It doesn't matter now. It's too late to do anything about it."

"What do you mean?"

"My people," he said softly, "are about to attack yours, if they haven't already. And I very much doubt your people can avoid defeat."

She stared down at him, her hand arrested in the air. A single drop of water fell from the cloth and splashed onto his chest.

He gave her a crooked smirk. "It's ironic, really. Were it not for my current issues with the Empire, you would probably be much safer as my slave than you would be serving anywhere in Starfleet. But as it is…" He shrugged. "You're probably screwed either way."

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings and disclaimers** in Chapter 1, but let me just reiterate: this gets **violent and nasty**, even though I'm leaving out the explicit parts in this version. (By the way, if you're tempted to head to Triaxian Silk for the NC17 version, you should know that the two versions don't line up exactly. Over there, this is Chapter 9 and part of Chapter 10.)

* * *

"Where and when is this attack supposed to occur?" T'Pol said, her voice even, her bearing suggestive of skepticism more than anything else. Tucker, on the other hand, looked deadly serious.

"This may shock you," Vehlen said, "but they haven't been keeping me apprised of all the latest details."

"Then what makes you so certain of their plans?"

"When I attempted to make my report to the Senate, they didn't want to hear my conclusion that Earth was not a threat to Romulan territorial integrity. Instead, my report was twisted to portray your people as intent on spreading their way of life throughout the galaxy. The Empire was already mobilizing for war. Indeed, my naïve attempts to question the wisdom of this course resulted in my current reduced circumstances."

T'Pol said, "Earth has powerful allies. What makes the Empire think they can defeat them too?"

Vehlen snorted. "You put more faith in Earth's alliances than I do."

T'Pol shared a long look with Tucker, who was staring hard at their prisoner. "We must verify this information," she said softly.

Tucker looked unhappy but gave her a curt nod. Kendra looked on, confused.

"Vehlen, I wish to join your mind," T'Pol said. "This will allow us to confirm that what you are saying is the truth."

He paled. "Romulans aren't telepaths."

She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I find that somewhat surprising. But you don't need to be. It is not painful … especially if you cooperate."

"I won't!"

"You have no choice."

"I refuse!" He turned a pleading look on Kendra. "Surely there's some Starfleet code that applies.…"

T'Pol said, "I believe any relevant Starfleet code has yet to be written. In any case, that will not prevent me in a matter of this importance." Her voice had taken on a tiny waver of uncertainty, however. Kendra wondered if giving a mind meld to an uncooperative prisoner might carry some risks. Or perhaps she simply considered the prospect distasteful.

"Stay away from me!" Vehlen hissed, backing up as far on the bed as the cuffs would allow him.

Tucker tapped T'Pol on the shoulder and guided her away to the desk, where he wrote something.

"Agreed," she said, and raised her voice. "Doctor, perhaps you could attempt to monitor us with that scanning device?"

"Of course," Kendra said. "I'm not sure I'd recognize trouble if I saw it, though."

"It will have to do," T'Pol said, with a quelling look at Tucker. "The only alternative is to attempt to stun him with this weapon, but he might not survive that in his current state of health." She approached the bed. Vehlen shrank back further and raised his knees defensively.

"Trip," T'Pol said, and Tucker, grimacing, advanced as well. Working together, they grabbed his flailing legs, then Tucker literally sat down on them.

"Is this really necessary?" Kendra said.

"I would not attempt it if it was not," T'Pol said. She straddled Vehlen's chest and reached her hand up to his face, though he tried to turn his head away.

"_My mind to your mind," _she said.

"Go to hell!" he snarled.

"_My mind to your mind," _she insisted, and to Kendra's surprise, Vehlen suddenly went limp under her hands and blinked trustingly up at her. The two faced off for some time, head to head, in silence.

Kendra exchanged a glance with Tucker, who frowned anxiously.

"Ah?" he said.

T'Pol took a deep breath. "You have been given new orders," she said softly. "You are to go to Earth. Tell me."

Mind melds were hard work. That much was obvious. T'Pol laboriously prodded Vehlen along as he established an identity, made contacts, and gradually wormed his way into a relationship with a Starfleet officer, a Lieutenant Remley, who was a lonely young attaché in Admiral Gardner's office. She apparently had a taste for blindfolds, which came in handy later when Vehlen decided, regretfully, that she posed a danger to his mission.

It was bizarre listening to T'Pol's voice drone, "You have been splendid, my dear. I'm so sorry I have to do this," as Vehlen relived the memory of injecting the woman with fast-acting poison.

T'Pol gasped and went silent until Tucker reached for her shoulder and shook it.

She fell back against him, all the while staring at Vehlen, who grimaced sullenly back at her.

"Ah?" Tucker said.

"I need…" T'Pol said. She swallowed hard. "I need some time." She turned and leaned against the engineer's chest, apparently too exhausted even to get to her feet.

He looked at Kendra, the question clear.

Kendra stared at her scanner. "As far as I can tell, she's okay," she said. "Why don't you take her to the other room, let her rest." She turned to check on their prisoner – but he was already either asleep or unconscious himself.

Tucker half-carried T'Pol out.

Kendra moved nervelessly around the room, cleaning things up, wondering what was going on elsewhere in space, whether Humans might already be dying at the hands of Romulans.

Wondering how many other lovers Vehlen had meticulously killed in his career.

x x x

Kendra gasped awake. She had dozed off in the armchair. She wiped her face of its trail of drool.

Tucker was sitting at the computer, intently searching through files. He had opened a translation window: Kendra saw horizontal English script scrolling alongside the vertical Romulan type.

He picked up a data pad and used a stylus to write, _Let's take the device off your neck._

"Are you sure that's safe?"

_Yes, _he wrote.

She nodded and sat down and let him work. It didn't take long. Even with the device removed, she still felt an odd tingling up and down her neck, and told him so. He shrugged and wrote _Will fade._

Right. He'd dealt with these devices before.

_Get mine off, _he wrote.

"But I don't know how."

_I'll show you. _He smiled encouragingly at her. He picked up her discarded device and pointed at a red symbol and mimed pressing the tool into it, then the blue one, then back to the red one. He did it a few times. _Red blue red, _he wrote. _Easy._

"Maybe we should wait for T'Pol."

He shook his head decisively and handed her the tool.

Kendra swallowed and got started. It was indeed easy with him patiently guiding her, and soon she was gingerly pulling it from his neck.

"Better?" she asked.

"Es," he said, and grinned broadly. _"Es! Iuhyawk!" _His face darkened and he tried, harder, to say it again, but it was still garbled.

"The effects fade," she reminded him. "I think you'll get it back eventually."

"Opso," he said, then smiled and nodded. Then his eyes lit up. "Pah!" he said, smiling, as the Vulcan walked in. "I uyawk!"

Her hand went up to her own neck, where her device was already missing. "You removed the devices without consulting me," she said, plainly irritated.

"Uteh ell ughexeugh oo, itayown eyevuh?" he said, then shook his head in frustration with his own incoherence, or possibly with her attitude. "Ugh!" he said, raising his hands in the air.

Kendra said, "He's already much improved."

"Good," T'Pol said curtly. "I must resume this meld." She turned and stared at the bed with obvious repugnance and sighed heavily. It was a sound Kendra was not sure she'd ever heard the Vulcan make before, and she turned and shared a concerned frown with Trip.

T'Pol, meanwhile, remained focused on their prisoner. Vehlen was mumbling and moving restlessly in his sleep.

Kendra checked the scanner. "His fever is rising again," she said. "I'd say he also needs a break from those cuffs, but..."

"He wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of any opportunity," T'Pol said. "They stay on." She looked around. "At least the odor in here is slightly less appalling than earlier."

"Yeah, I cleaned a bit," Kendra said, sharing another look with Trip. Perhaps T'Pol had been affected by the mind meld with a more emotional being?

Tucker pointed at Kendra and then turned to T'Pol and said, "New 'ose." Kendra had changed out of the shapeless tunic the Orions had issued them into a warmer robe and leggings she had found in Vehlen's belongings. She'd had to roll up the leggings and tie them at the waist to get them to stay up, but at least she no longer felt half naked.

"He has plenty of stuff in his closet," Kendra said, and Tucker went over and started looking. "Why don't you get something to wear, T'Pol?"

T'Pol ignored her and advanced on the bed. "You may need to hold his legs," she said.

"He should probably have some more water first," Kendra protested.

"This is taking far too long already!" T'Pol said vehemently, and swung herself over Vehlen's chest. He awoke with a grunt and panicked for a moment before T'Pol's hand clamped onto his face and he stilled.

Tucker hurried over from where he had pulled on a pair of Vehlen's pants and eyed them both with concern. T'Pol and Vehlen blinked silently into each other's eyes.

"Oh-ay?" Tucker asked Kendra, gesturing at the pair, still locked in silent communion.

Kendra looked down at the mystery that was her scanner, feeling helpless. "I don't know."

Tucker reached out and put his hand on T'Pol's shoulder and she shuddered briefly. "You must return home. You must make your report," she said shakily. _"Report," _she commanded, sounding a little steadier.

Apparently Vehlen had not lied about trying to argue against invasion. They listened as his frustration at his superior's reaction was followed by sick realization and horror as he was forced to flee for his life, as he learned of his family's deaths, as he used his intelligence skills to find a hiding place on an outlying colony. There, he contracted the recurring illness that had seriously damaged his heart. He had bargained with a doctor to operate on him in secret; the doctor in turn had apparently tried to turn him in to the authorities. Vehlen no longer knew who he could trust, no longer had access to what had once been substantial wealth, and his attempt to return to his hiding place on this planet had instead left him in this orbit, hiding from three war birds just as the illness recurred. The Empire was clearly desperately intent on capturing either him or Tucker or both.

"And now my time is at hand," T'Pol said raggedly. "And there is no one here for me."

Tucker grabbed her shoulder again. "T'Pah!"

"I need… I must…" T'Pol moaned, and Kendra realized with sick horror that she had begun to grind her pelvis against the Romulan's chest.

"T'PAH!" Tucker said, and literally yanked her hand from Vehlen's face and dragged her away from the bed. Vehlen moaned and arched as if to follow her.

T'Pol stood weakly, clinging to Tucker. "He's … it's the blood fever," she said. "The _pon farr. _When a Vulcan … when a _Romulan _must mate or die."

Tucker's eyes turned to flint. "Den le'em die."

"You agreed to serve me!" Vehlen moaned, twisting on the bed.

"He didn't lie to us," Kendra said, not sure why she felt the need to point that out.

"We should determine whether those ships are still in orbit," T'Pol said shakily. "We need to get this information to Starfleet. Perhaps it is not too late." But her attempt to exercise authority broke down rather dramatically when she began to nuzzle Tucker's neck.

"T'Pah," he said warningly. "Ships?"

"_Trip," _she growled, and reached up under his tunic, then began to mutter insistently in Vulcan.

Tucker turned a frantic look on Kendra.

She said, "He must have set her off somehow. The mind meld? The physical contact? I don't know." She raised her voice, hoping to get through to T'Pol. "Is there any way to stop this, T'Pol?" she said. "To delay it?"

T'Pol said something in Vulcan and pushed Tucker towards the door. He tried to hold his ground, but T'Pol was strong. Tucker was grim and red-faced with the effort he was making, and Kendra suspected that being manhandled by a petite woman, even if she was a Vulcan, probably wasn't helping his mood any.

"Trip," Kendra said. "My guess is that the more frustrated she gets the more dangerous this could be. Maybe you'd better just…" She raised her hands helplessly.

Trip stared at her for a moment, and then they were gone. In his moment of distraction, T'Pol had pushed him out the door.

On the bed, Vehlen groaned, twisting in his captivity.

Kendra went to get some water. "Drink," she said, holding the glass up to his mouth.

He knocked it away with his head, spilling it on himself and the bed and turned, straining, toward her. "Release me!"

"No," she said. She should have realized it was the _ponvau._ Had _he _realized? He'd spoken of a a possible complicating condition. Couldn't he have been a little more explicit? Her mind had been on the recurring illness he'd mentioned and its similarities to her own field of expertise. She'd even entertained a vague hope that she might get her hands on a sample of the microbe.

Which just proved she was an idiot.

"Please, Kendra," he begged pitifully. "Please. _Please._ I'm begging you!"

She walked over to the desk and sat down, where the weapon sat unattended. She wondered if she should attempt to check on Tucker and T'Pol, make sure the Vulcan wasn't killing him. Gingerly, she started touching the screen, checking each area as Vehlen had done during their evenings together.

Her eyes widened. They hadn't even made it out of the hallway. But nobody was dead. Definitely not dead. Indeed, Trip appeared to be playing the role of bond mate with notable enthusiasm. She felt her face flush hot and quickly closed the window.

She turned back to Vehlen and discovered he had gone limp. He was panting and his arms hung loosely in their restraints. She went over and put a hand on his forehead – it was painfully hot. He didn't open his eyes, just moaned and turned his head into her hand.

She sighed. "You know, guys on my planet sometimes _say _they're gonna die if they don't get laid, but you Vulcans and Romulans are the only people I know who actually will. One minute you're perfectly reasonable, intelligent beings and then suddenly you turn into _salmon _or something."

His eyes fluttered open and he fixed a beseeching stare on her, panting.

"Was this what you meant when you kept asking me about my Hippocratic Oath?" she said. "Because I don't think Hippocrates could have foreseen this particular situation."

His eyes shut. She checked with the scanner. His respiration seemed to be getting shallower, his heartbeat more erratic. If this condition killed healthy men, it would surely kill him.

Could she help him … mechanically? But surely no one would ever die if _that _was all it took. Which meant it had to be some other mechanism that resolved the event. Something to do with temperature? Enzymes? DNA? Of course, all this meant that even if she _wanted _to pull the ultimate Florence Nightingale, it might not work, because she wasn't Romulan.

Oh, God. What if T'Pol's pon farr couldn't be satisfied by Tucker? Would T'Pol need Vehlen after all?

Talk about a no-win scenario.

Vehlen's pathetic moans were making her crazy.

"I'm sorry, Vehlen," she said. "I didn't sign up for this. I just really didn't."

"I'm begging you. I'll give you … anything!"

"I don't want anything from you," she said. "Not that you have anything to give me anyway."

"Secrets," he said. "I'll give you secrets." He panted. "Military secrets."

"You already said you weren't a military man."

"But I know secrets," he said, sounding choked. "I have to …" He blinked back tears. "I need to…_ please!_ I'm begging you, Kendra! Let me go!"

"You _murdered _the last human you had sex with," she said. Poor sad, stupid, dead Lieutenant Remley in her blindfold. Maybe Kendra could look at this as poetic justice and harden her heart against all the desperate pleading.

"I didn't want to!"

"But you did it anyway."

She got up and went into the adjoining bathroom. He screamed _"Please!"_ and thrashed noisily, desperately, until the bed was literally banging against the bulkhead. She washed her hands, wishing she could stop up her ears, wishing she didn't have to hear his frantic cries and struggles. If she had a sedative, she'd put him out of his misery – and hers. It wasn't, perhaps, entirely ethical, but he was going to die anyway, unless T'Pol felt like taking pity on him, and T'Pol was otherwise occupied.

She suddenly realized that he'd gone silent.

Maybe he'd passed out. That would be a mercy.

She walked out and stared at the empty bed, the bed frame literally twisted out of its socket. Where…?

But then he was on her, holding the chain of the cuffs pulled tight against her throat until she couldn't breathe. She gasped, choking, her hands desperately pulling on his taut arms.

Oh God, she was going to die.

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings and Disclaimers** in Chapter One, but remember that this includes adult themes. Sorry for the delay; took me awhile to figure out how to keep this T-rated and still have it make sense. Hopefully, it still does.

* * *

Tucker said, "Kendra?"

She shrieked and nearly dropped the weapon she'd scrambled for when Vehlen had finally released her. Her grip on the gun tightened and she kept it trained on the Romulan where he now lay obliviously across the bed. It was hard to believe he was the same man who had just…

"Kendra?" Tucker said again, softly.

Finally, she turned and looked at him, realizing as she did that her tears and her bare legs under the robe she had taken earlier must be telling the story.

Grimacing, Tucker held out his hand for the weapon, which she reluctantly handed over. He put a commiserating hand on her shoulder, then tipped her chin up so she would look at him. This just made her cry harder, so he sighed and held her against his chest while she sobbed.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and patted her back awkwardly.

Eventually she said, "Is T'Pol all right?"

He nodded. "Out cold," he said grimly. "Like him."

She couldn't look at Vehlen. She wouldn't look at him ever again, if she didn't have to.

"Are you all right?" she asked, finally backing away from him. "Any injuries?"

He shook his head no and smiled tiredly, though his eyes looked sad. "You?" he said, and she said, "I'm okay." He gestured at the bathroom, the question obvious.

She nodded shakily and picked up her discarded leggings next to the bed before she went in. There were distinct red marks on her neck – chain marks and thumb prints – though the skin hadn't been broken. She was sore below too, but that was only to be expected. She turned on the water and stood under the hot shower until it finally clicked itself off to conserve water.

She wondered if she would ever feel clean again.

x x x

When she came out she did so carefully, checking to assure herself that Vehlen was secure. Tucker had switched his cuffs behind his back and tied his legs for good measure, and the Romulan was either still asleep, or unconscious, on his side, his breaths crackling with moisture. In a distant part of her brain Kendra thought that was not a good symptom, but she couldn't bring herself to investigate. It wasn't like she could do anything about it anyway.

"You okay?" Tucker asked. He was sitting at the computer again.

She nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She sighed. "Your speech is much better."

He shrugged and arched an eyebrow. "Maybe I just needed to get laid." His tone was ironic. Tucker didn't look much happier than she did.

"Rutting like animals in heat just isn't the same as making love," Kendra ventured.

He nodded without looking up from the screen in front of him. "I think I finally truly understand why Vulcans find it so embarrassing."

"You don't feel your bond is any stronger?"

He paused, almost as if he seemed to be listening to something inside for a moment, then shrugged and shook his head. "I don't really notice any difference. Honestly ... I feel kinda used. But I know she didn't have any choice. I mean, clearly, she would have even..." His voice caught and he gestured at the bed.

Kendra wondered how much of his bitterness arose from simple resentment that T'Pol had started this process with someone else.

Tucker sighed. "I guess this is just another instance where it would be handy if I were a Vulcan, not a human. I could have just ... you know, gone along for the ride without being freaked out." He swallowed. "But at least I love her. And it's not like it didn't have its moments." He raised his eyebrows wryly. "But you..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Kendra."

She looked down. The miserable truth was that even in the midst of awful humiliation and mortal fear, she had actually responded to Vehlen. To her horror, her body had eventually cooperated … even to the fullest extent. There was a small part of her that wanted to confess that to Trip now, but she was far too ashamed. Instead, she said, "I'm not the only one here who's going to have to deal with having been raped."

"I don't think of it that way," he protested. "It wasn't..."

"I'm not talking about you and T'Pol," she said. "I'm talking about you and the Orions."

Tucker paled.

"You need to talk about it with someone, Trip, now that you can. T'Pol, perhaps. Someone."

He shook his head, looking sick. "That... that was just ... that was just getting beaten up in a humiliating new way. It's just someone beating the crap out of ya just to see how bad they can make you feel. It sucks. You hope it never happens again. End of story."

Kendra put a hand on his shoulder and wondered if she could just think of it that way. It had happened, it sucked, end of story, move on. It would be awfully nice if it could be that easy. But it never was - though somehow that seemed a lot clearer in his case than in her own. "You don't get over something like that by ignoring it," she warned him.

"She knows about it anyway. Mind melds, remember? I couldn't hold something like that back even if I wanted to." He sighed unhappily, then stopped and listened, his attention diverted. "T'Pol?" Tucker said, and turned to look at the open doorway. A moment later, the Vulcan appeared, looking so stricken that Kendra couldn't help staring.

_"Oh darlin',"_ he said, and went and all but scooped her up. He turned back to Kendra. "Will you be okay for a little bit?" he asked.

She took one apprehensive look at Vehlen and picked up the weapon. _No,_ she thought, but instead she nodded.

"Thank you," he said, and disappeared out the door with his mate.

x x x

Vehlen had a beautiful carpet in his study. It looked like a fine hand-knotted antique Persian – and perhaps it was. Why spend all those years on Earth if you couldn't get a good deal on a rug?

Experimentally, she shot it.

Green light impacted harmlessly against the fine weave. Apparently this was a stun setting. She looked more closely and realized the characters on his weapon didn't look much like the ones on his scanner. Perhaps he'd picked up the weapon in his travels, too.

She turned the knob a notch. This time a scorch mark appeared and the smell of burnt wool arose. Okay, that was more like it. She hefted the weapon and walked over to the bed.

Vehlen looked up at her from where he lay. She didn't know how long he'd been awake, but he was certainly staring at her now.

She raised the weapon. He kept staring.

"I should just kill you," she said.

He said nothing.

"Don't you want to beg for your life?" she said.

"No," he said, and coughed.

"You sure begged before."

He just continued staring at her. It annoyed her. She would have preferred that he stare at the weapon. "Go on," she said, waving the weapon at him. "Beg."

"I'm sorry, Kendra .... I know you were trying to help me."

"I certainly won't be doing that again."

He coughed. It was a wet cough. "Fair enough," he said, and closed his eyes, coughing some more.

"You're dying anyway," she said, being intentionally cruel. "I'm pretty sure your heart is failing."

"Yes," he agreed, without opening his eyes.

"And even if I _wanted_ to help you with that, I don't have anything to give you."

"I know."

"Besides the fact that you're an awful man who deserves to die."

He smiled weakly as if he found this amusing.

She stared down at him where he lay on his side, breathing wetly. "You should probably try to sit up," she said grudgingly.

He didn't open his eyes. "I'm too tired."

She shook her head and backed away. She couldn't bring herself to help him; that would mean touching him. Disgusted with the whole situation, she walked back to the computer, where Tucker had left the translation program open, and started searching for medical files.

x x x

"Two of the ships are gone," Tucker said.

He and T'Pol were huddled together over the small ship's helm, conferring softly. Tucker might not think their bond had improved any, but from where Kendra was standing they looked more in tune with each other than she had ever seen them. But perhaps they had always worked well together when they had a job to do.

"They could be cloaked," T'Pol said.

"No, there'd still be an energy reading," Tucker said. "He's got his sensors rigged to capture any sign of certain very specific energy signatures – see this one, here, from the remaining ship? This alone is valuable information to get back to Starfleet."

"Agreed," T'Pol said.

Kendra coughed.

They turned from where they had been studying the small ship's helm.

"He says he needs to use the bathroom," she said, with an apologetic smile. She knew they were trying to find a way home, but there was no way she was going to help Vehlen with that particular chore.

Tucker exchanged a quick look with T'Pol. "I'll handle it."

"He could be lying," T'Pol said. "If Romulans are like Vulcans, they urinate a great deal less than humans do."

"Gee, and I thought you were just shy about using alien bathrooms," Tucker said. He seemed much more cheerful. "You know how to fire that thing?" he asked Kendra as they walked back to Vehlen's quarters.

"I've been practicing on the carpet."

He gave her a look.

She shrugged. "I had to practice on something."

They walked in and Tucker smiled at the scorch marks. "Cover us. It's on stun, right?"

"Yeah," Kendra said. "Just in case my aim sucks." She raised her voice for Vehlen's benefit. "But even a stun might kill him right now."

"What's the matter with him?" Tucker asked, already untying the cord around Vehlen's ankles. Vehlen just lay there quietly; he appeared to be focused on his increasingly labored breathing.

"His heart is weak," she said brusquely. "And his recent exertions"– she grimaced – "appear to have strained it badly." She didn't add that her recent research suggested the water she'd given him might be causing problems as well.

Damn Romulan physiology, how was she to know? Couldn't he have told her he shouldn't have too much? It was a good thing she hadn't found an IV, or he'd probably be dead already.

Of course, she reminded herself, she wished he _was_ dead already.

Which he would have been, or close to it, from the _ponvau,_ if... She shook her head in irritation. Yes, perhaps it was not an impulse he could control, anymore than T'Pol could. This much had become clear in her research. But this was still a man who had purchased slaves just so he would be able to rape one when the need arose.

When they had shuffled back from the bathroom, she told Tucker Vehlen needed to sit up in bed.

"Why?"

"It will help him to breathe," she said. At Tucker's look, she said, "I'm still a doctor, even if the bastard does deserve to die a miserable and lingering death."

Vehlen gave her that odd smile again.

Tucker sighed and arranged the pillows to allow Vehlen to sit in an almost upright position.

"Two of the ships have gone," Tucker said to Vehlen. "You have any suggestions on getting past the last one?"

Vehlen eyed him tiredly. "You could try echoing the trajectory of another passing spacecraft. They'll think the energy readings they get are a sensor echo. This satellite marks a tertiary shipping lane for the colony below. You'll find a schedule in my database. You'll need a fairly large ship to shadow for it to work."

Tucker looked pleasantly surprised. "Okay."

"That's the easy part," Vehlen said. "That traffic will be heading toward Romulus, not Earth. And they're obviously watching for this vessel. That means they will be looking for my warp signature and keeping an eye on all the local ports."

"I can muddy the warp signature. You got any other suggestions?"

Vehlen laid his head back on the pillow. "There are a few stops where _I _might still be able to buy fuel or passage, but my funds are low and I don't know if any of my previous contacts can still be trusted. But I doubt a human could find anyone willing to do business at all. Not with the little I have on hand. Your mate might have better luck; she could potentially pass as one of us."

"Why are they so intent on finding you, anyway?"

"They probably think I have _you._ You figure prominently in Starfleet's war plan, Mr. Tucker. Put the two of us together and they have a serious intelligence exposure."

Tucker shared a glance with Kendra. "Starfleet's war plan?"

Vehlen coughed and looked up at the ceiling, grimacing. "In the event of war, Starfleet assigns you to oversee the effort to get its fleet space-worthy and its engineering crews trained. This makes you a primary target for capture or elimination."

"Wouldn't Captain Archer or T'Pol be more important?"

"Yes, but they want to defeat Earth's great space hero in battle. And they know T'Pol will be reassigned as Starfleet's liaison to the Vulcan High Council, where she could be easily neutralized at any point. We have an ample supply of well-placed agents on Vulcan."

"_Ample?" _Tucker ran a hand nervously over his unshaven face. "Do they know about me and T'Pol?"

Vehlen frowned. "Starfleet thought those rumors were groundless, so I did too. But you should probably assume Zantira told them everything."

Tucker put his hands on his hips. "You're being awfully helpful all of a sudden."

Vehlen nodded at Kendra. "I told her I had secrets." He coughed. "Too bad they're all Starfleet's. Still, it's useful to know what your enemy knows." He looked meaningfully at Kendra. "I pay my debts."

She glared at him. He actually imagined he could _pay_ her?

Vehlen frowned. "She's not going to forgive me, is she?" he said, ostensibly to Tucker, though he was looking at her.

Trip just gave him a disgusted frown.

"Pity," Vehlen murmured, and closed his eyes. "I was getting rather fond of her."

Tucker signaled her to walk to the door with him. "Will you be all right watching him?"

She nodded.

"T'Pol and I need to focus on getting us home."

"I know."

"See if you can find any of those funds he mentioned."

"How?"

He grimaced. "Try asking him. Apparently he was getting rather fond of you."

_To be continued..._


	10. Chapter 10

She walked back into the room, considering.

Vehlen watched her silently.

"Where's your money?" she asked him brusquely.

"In the vault."

"Where's that?"

"A hidden compartment in my docking port. You'll need my help to get into it, unless you plan to take the docking port apart, which could be problematic."

"Why?"

"I have placed certain defensive measures there," he said.

"Will you help us get to it, then?"

"Yes." He smiled grimly. "But don't expect me to hand anything over until I'm safely out of the airlock."

She scowled. "Just because _you_ blithely eliminate anyone who could get in your way, doesn't mean _we_ do."

"That's yet to be seen, isn't it? And I don't, actually, blithely eliminate anyone who could get in my way. You and Mr. Tucker are still here. For that matter, I only needed one slave but I took three, at some additional trouble and expense, simply to keep you three together."

"Yes, of course. That was pure charity. You had no use for an engineer. Or a physician. Or a _spare_."

He winced. "That was an unfortunate turn of phrase. But it did work out well. I had no desire to come between two bond mates. That sort of thing generally results in a fight to the death." He coughed. "I'm sorry the _ponvau _makes such a terrible first time." He paused and gave her an appraising look. "But I couldn't help noticing that you adjusted to it surprisingly well."

Fury surged and she slapped him hard across the face.

He didn't say anything, just blinked rapidly. She turned away, her heart still pounding with anger but already embarrassed at her loss of control. She'd hit a man who couldn't defend himself – technically, her patient – and even if he did deserve it, she didn't want to think of herself as the kind of person who would do something like that. She took a deep breath and began to pace.

"Do you know what resolves the _ponvau_?" he said softly.

She ignored him and kept pacing.

"The male must play his part, of course, but ultimately its resolution depends on the female. Her contractions signal that she has created a hospitable environment for conception."

She stopped. If this was true, nature was kinder to Vulcanoid women than human women. Or perhaps not - what if a woman never came? Then again, Vehlen could just as easily be making this up in an attempt to keep her off balance. "If I were you, I'd shut up," she said.

"I think there may be more of a connection between us than you care to admit."

She planted her feet, folded her arms, and told him what she'd been telling herself, although it had proven to be very cold comfort: "What happened to me is not that unusual in human women who are the victims of sexual assault. It's an instinctive mechanism that evolved to protect the female of the species from excessive damage. Your average caveman probably wasn't a very patient lover."

"I see," he said, and considered this for a moment. "If anything, my ancestors were probably worse. The _ponvau_ has never been considered a terribly good time for the female, especially one without a pre-existing bond to help her through. So, look, Kendra – I'm sorry I started out as such a caveman, but I _can_ do better."

She picked up the weapon.

"And I'll shut up now," he said quickly.

Tucker came by a couple of hours later and said, "Why don't you go eat and get some sleep? I'll take this shift, and T'Pol will take over when she wakes up. You might as well try to get a decent night. Tomorrow morning we're going to attempt to get moving."

"I already ate," she said. So had Vehlen, not that he'd eaten much. He had taken the stew she'd spoon-fed him in a brooding silence so profound that she had begun to miss his conversation.

This was a realization that had disturbed her greatly, and she'd been puzzling about it ever since, as he slept propped up against a mound of pillows, his open-mouthed wheezing audible across the room.

On top of all that, in sleep he looked far too young and vulnerable and the curl of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead kept calling her to smooth it out of the way.

And that was just too creepy.

What the hell was the matter with her? Was she developing Stockholm syndrome – beginning to identify with their captor? That didn't really make sense when he wasn't even their captor anymore. Or was she _that_ lonely? She didn't think so. Perhaps she was overcompensating for her far more understandable desire to murder him?

Was it possible Vehlen had tapped into a deep current of submissiveness? God, she hoped not. Could _anything_ be more humiliating?

Tucker lowered his voice. "Did he say anything?"

She quietly told him about the defensive measures.

Trip rolled his eyes. "We should probably keep an eye out for those all over the ship. Do you think he'll be up to helping us get at it?"

She turned to study their sleeping prisoner and was quietly appalled all over again at the unmistakable feeling of protectiveness that rose up in her at the sight of him. "I think so. This appears to be classic congestive heart failure, but it doesn't look like end stage yet to me. Unfortunately, I have no experience with Romulans. I'm sure there are very basic treatments that could extend his life – we just don't happen to have access to any of them." She frowned in frustration.

Tucker studied her for a moment, then said, "You should go get some rest."

She turned and looked at Vehlen.

Tucker frowned. "Kendra? Shall I make it an order?"

She looked up at him, startled. Tucker had never pulled rank on her before. "I'll go."

At the door, she hesitated. "You won't..."

Tucker looked up from where he was already settling into the desk chair, "What?"

She wanted to say, "You won't hurt him?" But that would betray how screwed up she was, so instead she swallowed and said, "You wouldn't do anything ... important ... without letting me know?"

Tucker looked perplexed. "Like what?"

Her eyes went involuntarily to Vehlen for a moment, before she shook her head. "Never mind."

_He was on her again, but this time there was no captivity. He was taking his time, and so was she. "I told you I could do better," he said._

_She didn't say anything, just panted in pleasure. _

_"You're mine now," he said._

_Whatever. She certainly didn't want to argue at a time like this._

_"Are you mine?" he said._

_She felt the first stirrings of irritation. _

_"Say it," he said. "Say that you're mine."_

_She stopped cold. "You really know how to kill a mood, you know that?"_

_"Say it!" he demanded._

_"I'm not yours. I'm not anybody's!" _

_"Wrong answer!" he said, and pushed her head down into the pillow. She struggled but he held her tight; she couldn't breathe; she was suffocating..._

"Doctor!"

Kendra gasped awake, taking in deep, desperate breaths.

T'Pol was staring at her with concern. "I believe you were having a nightmare."

Tucker's half-panicked voice came over the com. "Hey, Doc, I need some help here."

Kendra blinked at T'Pol for a moment, then raced after her to Vehlen's quarters.

Tucker was hovering uncertainly over Vehlen, who had turned grey and was gurgling and gasping and thrashing as much as his bindings allowed.

"What happened?" Kendra said breathlessly, fighting hard not to lapse into an unprofessional panic. She could feel her own pulse thundering as if the nightmare hadn't ended.

"I don't know!" Tucker said. "I thought he was asleep. I guess he rolled over or something because I heard him start choking."

"Let's get him vertical," Kendra said. "Help me." Tucker lifted Vehlen up to the side of the bed and she and T'Pol grabbed his legs, trying not to get kicked, and dropped them over the side. He was still coughing and gagging, but Kendra could tell that getting him upright was helping. "Undo the cuffs," she said.

Tucker hesitated a moment, then fished the key out of his pocket and did so.

"You're okay, Vehlen," Kendra said. She wrapped her arms around his chest, bracing herself to lift him, and said, "Stand up. Come on, I'll help you."

Vehlen didn't respond, but Tucker helped her haul him into a standing position. Vehlen was still gasping and coughing as Kendra supported him, but eventually there were more breaths between the wet coughs, and he began to actually stand unsteadily on his own feet. His arms came up to wrap around her and she frowned but let him hang onto her. Drowning on the fluid in your own lungs was terrifying, and that was what he had been doing.

"Go on, cough," she said, rubbing his back. "Get as much of it out as you can."

They stood there for some time while he coughed and wheezed, and she tried not to notice the looks passing between Tucker and T'Pol, especially when Vehlen rested his head on her shoulder and sighed, _"Ihlla'nh."_

Ignoring that – she had no idea it meant, anyway – she told the others, "He's going to need to get up and walk around every four hours or so. And no more lying down. I wish we could give him oxygen."

"Oxygen? No problem," Trip said. "He has an EV suit. We could just put the helmet over his head and hook it up."

Kendra stared at him in chagrin. "I should have asked before."

Tucker looked quickly at T'Pol and said, "I'll go get it, then."

Kendra began to feel self-conscious under T'Pol's gaze. She patted Vehlen awkwardly, trying to signal that enough was enough. "Let's see if you can walk around a little."

He nodded, his face still very pale, and shuffled along with her. He looked thoroughly shaken up.

"Let's just head for the chair," she said. "We'll get you set up for some oxygen. Then you'll feel better." She settled him into the armchair and checked his wrists, feeling a little stab of shame at the condition she'd left them in – surely she should have at least cleaned and bandaged his cuts? "Maybe we could just cuff one of his hands to the chair?" she asked T'Pol. "I don't think he's going to be much of a threat for the immediate future."

"I believe that could suffice for now," T'Pol agreed, and attached the cuff herself, with an efficient 'click' that gave Kendra a chill.

Those cuffs.

She blinked. Those cuffs had been used to choke her into submission. What the hell was the matter with her? Why was she wasting so much concern on this bastard? Why did she care about his wrists, or his captivity, after what he'd done to her? To them?

"Is something wrong, doctor?" T'Pol asked.

"Do you think it's really true that Romulans aren't telepaths?" she asked. "Could he..." she trailed off. How best to put this? "Could he be messing with my head?"

Vehlen looked sharply at her. He was still pulling hard for every breath.

"In what way?" T'Pol asked softly, with an extra calm that made Kendra suspect that she was definitely concerned.

"I don't want to talk about it here," she said, conscious of Vehlen's stare.

Tucker came in then, with an EV helmet much squarer in design than Starfleet's, as well as a canister. "Just plop it on?" he asked Kendra.

She nodded.

"It's pretty heavy."

Kendra went to the bathroom, rolled up a towel, and placed it around Vehlen's neck. "Try that. Just don't make it a tight seal."

Tucker put the helmet over Vehlen's head, made a few adjustments to the towel, and stepped back.

"Is that better?" Kendra asked Vehlen, but she already knew the answer. She could feel it in the lightening of her own chest.

He nodded, his dark eyes staring piercingly back at her through the helmet.

"Trip, the doctor and I need to discuss something," T'Pol said abruptly, and went to wait at the door.

Kendra followed her nervously. She hoped it hadn't been a mistake to speak up. It was hard not to feel that she was really going to be in trouble now.

_**To be continued**_


	11. Chapter 11

_Warnings and Disclaimers in Chapter 1_

* * *

T'Pol led her to the tiny bridge, where she quickly checked various instruments and then turned to face Kendra. "What exactly are you experiencing?" she asked.

Kendra licked her lips. "More concern than I believe I should, even for a patient. For awhile I almost felt as if _I _was having trouble breathing too. And I have this overwhelming sense of protectiveness..."

T'Pol said, "Are you also feeling a certain degree of attraction?"

Kendra looked down, too embarrassed to admit it out loud. "I don't understand," she said. "After what he did to me, the only thing I _should_ want to do is kill him. But I don't. Or I do _and_ I don't." She shook her head in frustration. "I feel like I've been hijacked in my head and ... in other ways."

"He mated with you," T'Pol said.

"He raped me," Kendra countered hotly.

"Yes, I know, in human terms it was rape." She looked bleak. "However, it appears that he has formed at least a rudimentary mate bond with you."

"But that's crazy. Are you saying Romulans develop a mate bond with every woman they ever have sex with? His wife, that Lieutenant, me, who knows how many others?"

T'Pol said, "I doubt it is possible to have more than one mate bond at a time. So I would assume that if Vehlen was still mated to his wife, he could not also have been mated to Lieutenant Remley. Perhaps this is why it was relatively easy for him to kill her. But his wife is dead. So now…"

Kendra put her head in her hands and covered her eyes. "You think I'm _bonded _to that monster."

T'Pol said softly, "Vehlen is not a monster by his own people's standards of morality. He deeply regretted what he felt was his duty in the matter of Lieutenant Remley. And he has been willing to sacrifice much for a cause he considers just. However, you must not trust him, for I believe he would not hesitate to take control again if the opportunity presented itself." She paused, apparently considering, then added, "I do believe he is genuinely fond of you."

Kendra looked up. "You got that from the mind meld?"

"In part. But from the beginning he has watched you and sought you out. Commander Tucker noticed this as well."

"That could have just been strategy on his part."

"We considered that, but it was quite pronounced. We also came to suspect that the attraction was not entirely one-sided."

Kendra suddenly felt cold. "Are you saying this is _my_ fault?"

"No. I don't pretend to know why or how bonds form. Or attractions, for that matter." She hesitated, then said, "I had no logical reason to ever take an interest in Commander Tucker, but I did, from nearly the first moment we met. He rather rudely informed me that he'd taken a shower that morning. I soon found myself wondering just what it would have been like to take that shower with him. It was quite irrational, especially since this was long before I began to consider him a respectable companion for a _meal_, let alone a shower… or a lifetime."

T'Pol's candor surprised her. She realized that the Vulcan was making a real effort not to seem judgmental and smiled her thanks. "Did you ever tell Trip that?"

The Vulcan looked away. "Not in so many words. I hardly think it's necessary now."

If they were both human, Kendra would have told her to do it away. With a Vulcan, though, she was in uncertain territory, especially since mind melds had clearly occurred between them recently. Did that perhaps result in perfect understanding of such matters?

"I don't suppose this thing with Vehlen will matter much in the long run," Kendra said heavily, trying to sound tougher than she felt. "I don't think he has very long to live. And then I can just put it behind me." Assuming they were still alive, anyway.

"You may have to do that sooner than you think," T'Pol said. "Getting the information we have gathered back to Starfleet is of vital importance. If the opportunity to safely leave Vehlen behind presents itself, I will take it."

Kendra scrambled to come up with a logical reason why that idea was as awful as it felt. "But he could be useful to Starfleet!"

"If Romulans have any consistent pattern in their interactions with us, it is that no one who has seen them is allowed to survive. They self-destruct rather than allow capture. I'm sure Vehlen doesn't wish to help Starfleet anymore than he already has. He'd probably like to destroy any traces of what he has already allowed. We are perhaps fortunate that he may now be guided at least in part by a desire to protect you."

"Then why not keep him with us?"

"Vehlen's concept of protecting you could be significantly different than yours or mine, doctor."

"But he's sick! I'm a doctor. I can't just abandon him."

"You can and you will, if you are so ordered," T'Pol said. "A bond does not remove free will. You are a Starfleet officer. You must remember where your duty lies – with the people of Earth."

x x x

Kendra made her way back to Vehlen's cabin, brooding about what T'Pol had said about a bond not removing free will. But wasn't that the point? If it wasn't, then why was it called a _bond?_ And why, then, was she afflicted with one she certainly didn't want?

T'Pol had asked her to send Trip back to the bridge. Apparently she still felt Kendra could still be trusted to guard their prisoner, which was somewhat reassuring.

He gave her the weapon out in the hallway, where they could still keep an eye inside the door. Trip said softly said, "Everything all right?"

She flushed. "I'll let T'Pol fill you in. Anything go on with him while I was gone?"

"No. I tried to ask him about their cloaking technology, but he claims he doesn't know anything about it, he just flips the switch. I find that hard to believe."

"Did you search his database?"

"Yeah, all night. Didn't find anything. I'd love to take his cloak apart, but we kinda need it right now. He also claims it will blow up if I try to do anything with it. I don't know whether to believe that or not, either."

"Maybe T'Pol should try another mind meld with him."

He drew back as if burned. "Are you kidding me?"

She raised her eyebrows. "The _pon farr_ has been resolved."

"I don't care. I don't want her any closer to him than necessary!"

"Okay, but what if it's necessary?"

He shook his head as if to clear it, and said, "I think it's simpler just to assume we can't trust him. Keep a close eye and be careful. He could be stronger than he appears."

x x x

She scanned Vehlen. He was breathing much better. "Let's try doing without the oxygen," she said. She closed and detached the canister, then lifted the helmet off, after carefully placing the gun a safe distance away. The helmet was indeed heavy, and she wasn't surprised when he immediately lifted his free hand to soothe his shoulders where it had been sitting.

"What did she tell you?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He frowned. "You're upset."

Kendra didn't say anything. He watched her as she collected her gun and sat herself down a safe distance away on the bed.

He said, "There _is_ a connection between us. You can't deny it."

She scowled. "Unless talking about it will make it go away, I don't see much point in discussing it."

"It wouldn't have formed in the first place if there wasn't somethingthere_._"

"Yeah, well, I'll probably have nightmares about what was _there_ for the rest of my life."

She felt a stab of pain in her chest; he paled and went a bit clammy looking, clenching his hand over his belly. She held up the scanner. If she was interpreting it correctly, he was showing all the signs of a seriously stressed heart, including a rather abnormal heart rhythm, but no infarction. "Perhaps I'll be dead soon and then you won't have to worry about it anymore," he said, teeth gritted.

"You're okay, you just need to relax," she said, before she realized how ridiculous that advice must sound. She put the gun down, again at a safe distance, and approached him. "Take some slow, deep breaths, then exhale slowly. Come on, like this." She demonstrated and he followed her, though breathing deeply also made him cough. "Do you want the oxygen back?" How much gas did one of those canisters hold, anyway? She'd have to ask Trip if there were any more once this one was used up.

He shook his head, grimacing. "I had hoped the surgery would resolve this."

Then apparently he didn't know. "If I'm interpreting my scans correctly, that doctor opened you up, but didn't actually operate on your heart. According to what I can find in your database, very little surgery is done for this condition, because the benefits do not outweigh the risks. In any case, if it had been attempted, a tremendous amount of blood would have been required. But your surgical scars are entirely superficial, and I see no evidence of a massive transfusion, no implantation of any assistive devices, nothing."

Vehlen's face darkened. "That _ryakna!_ After what I paid him..."

"Maybe he knew you were going to try to kill him."

He blinked. "I never kill without reason."

"But you do come up with reasons, don't you?"

"This is what you think of me!"

"Yes, this is what I think of you."

Kendra felt an odd compression in her own chest, and felt a helpless, ridiculous twist of guilt at distressing him in his condition. "Look," she said. "This thing—this bond. It's just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sorry if it pains you, but you can't expect me to pretend anything else."

"I had hoped this would work out better," he said, still gritting his teeth in apparent discomfort. "Not a mating bond – neither of us needs that right now – but I had hoped that with more time together, you wouldn't have been so traumatized...." He swallowed. "Perhaps humans are more susceptible, but among my people, bonds don't form unless there is at least _some_ interest. Some affection."

_"Affection?"_ she said bitterly. "I'd have to be pretty desperate!"

His jaw worked for a moment. "I believe you were recently kidnapped and enslaved with no obvious way to get home. And you fairly recently lost your entire family in one horrific calamity. I can come up with plenty of reasons why you might be somewhat desperate, if you need them. I certainly have reasons of my own for being _desperate,_ as you put it. Unfortunately, none of them changes reality. A bond formed. It exists."

"So how do we get rid of it?"

He smiled. "You said I was dying. That should resolve the situation nicely."

She felt a stab of remorse. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, my dear. I'm afraid there's still an excellent chance that we're _all_ going to die. But I'll try to see you safely out of this if I can. It is the least I can do for my bond mate."

Did he mean that? It was ... unexpectedly gallant of him, if true.

Or, possibly, it was just another move in the game.

x x x

Eventually Vehlen dozed off again. She fought the powerful urge to curl up on his bed and nod off herself, and went back to the computer to continue translating medical files. She'd quickly exhausted any information on the _ponvau_ and mate bonds – apparently they weren't topics Romulan doctors published extensively on, even if they weren't as secretive about it as the Vulcans. She moved on to heart conditions, about which there was all too much to learn.

Vehlen woke when the ship shifted gently under them. "We've changed course," he said.

Eventually T'Pol came by to inform Kendra that they were now shadowing a passenger liner as it made its way out of the system. It did not appear that they were being pursued.

"You have my alarms set?" Vehlen said. "If those energy readings show up, they will be at the very outer edge of my sensor range."

"Yes, Commander Tucker has been monitoring them most carefully," T'Pol said. "But we will have to break off from this liner's course eventually. Do you have any recommendations for us? In return for your help I am willing to deposit you safely somewhere along our flight path."

"I don't want you to deposit me. You need me. I can help you, at least until we get out of Romulan space."

"I'm afraid I don't consider that a practical option, Mr. Vehlen."

He straightened his posture and tugged down his robe. "Then, Commander, I formally request political asylum."

T'Pol gave him a nonplussed stare.

He lifted his chin. "I know there are provisions for this in your regulations."

Kendra felt relieved. There, a _logical _reason to take him with them.

"There are indeed," T'Pol said. "However, there is no requirement that such a request must be honored, especially when it could hinder a vitally important mission."

Damn.

"_Not _taking me is just as likely to hinder you as taking me," he said.

"We have no reason to trust you in this matter," T'Pol said. "Perhaps if I had a team of crewmen I could detail solely to watch you, I could consider your request. As it is..."

"There's Kendra. Or use your damned mind meld!"

"I have been in your mind twice already. That was enough to show me that your motives are complex at best. I do not care to repeat the experience."

"I don't either, but you're a damned fool if you ignore the best resource you have at hand. Besides, you know I have reason to want the best outcome for you now." He canted his head toward Kendra.

T'Pol was clearly unmoved. "My original question remains. Do you have any suggestions for where we might safely depart from our current course?"

"There is no place to depart safely. They are watching for my ship and my cloak is not sophisticated enough to fool any military vessel. You need to change ships."

"That hardly seems practical, especially when we already have a perfectly serviceable craft under our feet," T'Pol said.

"You don't understand what you're up against. The Empire is expert at remote surveillance. And it employs vast networks of informers across a number of species. What do you think will happen when you need to purchase more fuel and supplies, which you soon will? The only way to get safely away is to fool them into thinking there is no remaining risk of exposure. Then they'll stop looking. I have developed a plan that you could put in place before the liner makes its next scheduled stop. I believe it will increase your chance of success considerably."

T'Pol stood and silently assessed their prisoner, who stared back at her as if not breaking eye contact was enough to prove he was telling the truth. T'Pol turned to Kendra with a questioning look.

Kendra grimaced. T'Pol wanted _her _opinion? She had no idea whether to believe him. She only knew that the idea of leaving him behind disquieted her beyond all reason. "Didn't you also try to fool them when you first bought us?" she asked him.

Vehlen looked a little chagrined. "I created transporter duplicates, but that was more for Zantira than for myself; I knew they wouldn't stand up to a proper investigation."

"Yes, but that means attempting to fool them is a pattern they'll associate with you," Kendra said. "That makes it less likely to work a second time."

T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "If you didn't expect that ruse to work, why did you even take the risk of purchasing Commander Tucker?"

"You don't think I should have kept you and your bond mate together?"

"I don't believe you would be motivated by altruism, Mr. Vehlen, especially on so short an acquaintance."

He smirked. "Perhaps not. Consider this, then: I delivered valuable intelligence to my superiors, at great risk to myself, and they rewarded me for my loyalty by murdering my family. So when I was suddenly presented with the opportunity to interfere with one of their goals...and meet my own needs at the same time..." He shrugged, perhaps noticing that T'Pol did not look persuaded. "I suppose revenge doesn't make much sense to a Vulcan."

"It doesn't make sense to me from _you,"_ T'Pol said. "I know that you blame yourself for your family's fate at least as much as you blame your superiors. You do not have a particularly vengeful personality. In short, Mr. Vehlen, I believe that you are – as Commander Tucker might put it – attempting to blow smoke up my ass."

Vehlen raised his eyebrows, perhaps at the metaphor, then frowned. "All right then. This will sound unpleasantly calculating, I'm afraid." He glanced over at Kendra. "I knew I was going to need a companion for the _ponvau_. And it has been my general experience that people who are reeling from traumatic personal losses are dangerous and unpredictable. Call it enlightened self-interest, but in my family we have always taken pains to keep our slave families happy and intact. So I included Commander Tucker because he was clearly your bond mate. And I included Kendra because she could be useful as a physician, and also because I hoped she might prove to be a worthy – and unencumbered – alternative to you when my time came. As indeed she did."

So he'd considered her a possible partner – no, _victim_ – from the beginning? Somehow that was at once infuriating and weirdly gratifying.

T'Pol nodded. "That sounds more plausible. It still doesn't give us any reason to trust you now. Your blood fever has been resolved. We are no longer your slaves, so you owe us no protection. So you have no further use for us, except perhaps as bargaining chips."

"No one can bargain safely with the people who are looking for Commander Tucker. No doubt my compatriots would consider my behavior somewhat craven and undignified, but my best hope for avoiding an early and unpleasant death lies in escaping Romulan space as quickly as possible. I also owe protection to my bond mate, whether she wants it or not. Finally: Conquering Earth will merely cement the power of the cynical cabal that currently runs the Empire, which will do my people no favor. In short, Commander, at present our interests align _perfectly."_

T'Pol stared at him, obviously still assessing. She finally frowned and said, "You may present your plan. But I want Commander Tucker to hear it as well."

x x x

"I don't like it," Tucker said with a scowl. He and T'Pol had taken advantage of the auxiliary controls in Vehlen's quarters to keep an eye on their status while they listened to Vehlen outline his plan.

"It's too complicated," Kendra said. She had listened to it with increasing disbelief.

"It does appear to carry an extreme degree of risk," T'Pol said. "More so than simply making best possible speed out of Romulan territory."

"I understand that it must run against every instinct you have," Vehlen said. "That is what gives it a good chance of success: they won't be expecting it. I know how they operate. They like to keep a light hand, to go undetected. There is still a pretense of democracy in the Empire, and they don't want to arouse the citizenry against them, especially at a time when a significant draft might become necessary. So if they think their target has already done their work for them, they may simply move on."

"_May_. There are substantial risks," T'Pol said.

"Oh, of course," Vehlen said. He sighed. "You hadn't struck me as quite so cautious before."

"Oh, save it," Tucker said. "You can't double-dare us into something like this."

"Meld with me if you must," Vehlen said to T'Pol. "You will see that I am completely sincere."

T'Pol folded her arms and looked at Tucker. "Perhaps I had better."

Tucker's voice deepened to a growl. "Oh no you _don't_."

T'Pol blinked. "Trip—"

"I don't want you so much as touching him!"

Vehlen looked amused. "Feeling territorial, Commander?"

"_You_ shut up," Tucker said. He turned back to T'Pol. "We split off at the next asteroid, planet, system, whatever, and head for Earth as fast as we can. That's what I'd do. And Jon would do exactly the same. You know he would."

"You said that our fuel supplies are not sufficient," T'Pol said.

"So we'll find a supply on the way. It's still better than what _he's_ suggesting."

"But if what he says is true..."

"It's NOT!" Tucker roared.

"Perhaps we could discuss this on the bridge."

"I don't need to discuss anything. This is my bottom line, T'Pol. You are not to meld with that man. I forbid it!"

T'Pol's eyes widened. Kendra noticed that Vehlen's amusement had drained away, replaced by wariness.

An alarm began to sound.

_"Somebody_ better check that," Vehlen said.

T'Pol turned to the console. "The liner is preparing to go to warp," she said. She turned back to Tucker. "Shall we follow it, or do you wish to forbid that as well?"

His face reddened. "Better follow it. For now."

"Very well," T'Pol said. They waited tensely as she made the commands from Vehlen's console and soon they felt the ship leap into warp. Kendra watched as T'Pol pulled up various control screens, monitoring the various ship's systems and navigation. Finally she reported, "I see no sign of pursuit."

Kendra relaxed slightly, until T'Pol turned around in her seat and said, "I resign my command, Mr. Tucker. The mission is yours."

Trip gaped. "What?"

"It's clear that the personal relationship between us is interfering with the chain of command. The logical solution is for me to resign. I will, of course, be pleased to serve under _your _command." She sounded impassive, but Kendra sensed a mortally pissed-off Vulcan underneath.

"Oh, come on, T'Pol!" Tucker said. "We disagree all the time. It's never gotten in the way before."

"You've never _forbidden_ an action from me before," T'Pol said, a definite edge creeping in. "You may have that right as my bond mate, but I cannot hope to operate as your superior officer if you are going to exercise it. The only logical solution is to give you command of the rest of this mission."

His hands went up on his hips. "Now you're trying to manipulate me!"

T'Pol went completely still; her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Your orders?"

Tucker looked sick. "Okay, fine, you want me to take command? Here's my first order: Resume your own damned command!"

Her voice was steely. "If I am to do that, I need to be free to do what I think will best help us complete our mission successfully."

He stared angrily down at her. "Then do what you have to do." He turned and left.

T'Pol slumped in her chair.

Vehlen sighed. "You know, children, we really don't have time for this."

Kendra said, "Shut up, Vehlen."

T'Pol said, "Doctor, perhaps I could show you how to monitor this panel. I need to be free to perform a mind meld with Mr. Vehlen and I have no idea when or if Mr. Tucker will return."

Kendra raised her eyebrows. "T'Pol, I don't know the first thing about that. How about I get Trip and make sure he's monitoring it? From the bridge, if not here?"

T'Pol said, "That is a logical suggestion." Her tone was calm but her posture radiated misery. "I will await your return."

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimers and warnings in Chapter 1.

Author's Note: You certainly are quiet out there compared to the gang at Triaxian Silk. I'm glad I get some stats to tell me at least some of you are reading. Perhaps you'll consider leaving a review when you get to the end?

* * *

Kendra tracked down Trip in the engine room and resisted the slightly hysterical urge to tell him they really _didn't_ have time for this. Instead, she strove to sound neutral. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking things," he said. "Engines usually calm me down."

"Usually?"

He grimaced. "You know, maybe something _did_ happen with the bond. Maybe I am feeling more territorial. Either that or I'm just not really capable of putting up with any more crap at all right now. Of any kind." He sighed unhappily.

"After what you've gone through recently that would be understandable." She pushed it a little further. "A little wide-ranging anger might also be understandable."

He snorted. "Maybe to you. To T'Pol, I'm suddenly a big scary monster."

"I doubt that."

"No, I can feel it, right here." He put his hand on his heart. He took a shuddering breath. "Vulcans aren't supposed to get scared." He turned wide eyes on her. "I need her to be the voice of reason right now. Not to buy into crazy schemes hatched by desperate Romulans with nothing to lose! I don't see any way this plan can work, even if it isn't a trap."

"I think she's just as skeptical of him as you are," Kendra said. "That's why she wants to do this meld. If he's sincere, maybe we can collaborate on something that makes more sense. But right now she needs us to trust her ... and to watch her back. And, more specifically, she needs someone to monitor the ship's status while she does this mind meld."

He frowned with distaste.

"Do it from the bridge if you don't want to be there," Kendra said. "But think about what kind of message that sends your bond mate."

He threw up his hands. "Has it ever occurred to you how completely one-sided this whole bond thing is? Wham, bam, you're bonded for life. Nobody asks you. Nobody warns you. In your case, you barely even know the guy. He _raped _you! And do you get any rights in the matter at all? Even a very simple, basic one, like no, honey, you can't go feeling up another guy's brain while I watch?"

"Do you think _she_ enjoys the prospect?"

Trip slumped. "Son of a bitch. I hate this. I want my engines back. I want my life back. I want to wake up and find out that none of this ever happened." He took a last, wistful look at Vehlen's tiny little warp engine, scowled, and headed for the door.

x x x

Kendra followed Trip in and watched him lay his hands on T'Pol's shoulders as she sat at the desk. He said, "I'll take over here. Go do your thing."

"Thank you," she said, and got up.

He nodded and sat down, stone-faced and intent, though Kendra saw him close his eyes and take a breath when T'Pol briefly caressed his head as she turned away.

It seemed to take so little for those two to reconnect. Kendra met Vehlen's eyes and he gave her a tiny, crooked smile, almost as if he had noted the same thing, before his attention snapped warily back to T'Pol.

"You agreed to this," T'Pol reminded him.

"So I did," he said grimly. He threw a nervous glance at Kendra as T'Pol settled herself at the end of the bed and reached her hand across to his face, almost as if she was seeking the greatest possible physical distance between them.

"My mind to your mind," she said softly.

Vehlen's hands gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white. Kendra watched uncomfortably. Why was he so nervous? Did he somehow hope to hide the truth from T'Pol? Or was it simply impossible not to fear such unfiltered contact?

"Our two minds are merging," T'Pol intoned. "Our minds are one."

Kendra felt a tendril of envy wrap around her consciousness. _She'd_ never have that kind of access to Vehlen's inner thoughts, or to anyone's. Though perhaps it wasn't really something to envy. She wasn't sure her marriage could have survived having complete access to Ruben's opinions of her, or vice versa.

Trip swiveled around and watched the pair for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he gave Kendra a sour grimace and turned back to his work.

"Why help these people?" T'Pol said.

Kendra leaned forward, interested to hear the answer to that, but T'Pol remained silent. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be locked in silent struggle with Vehlen.

"Trip?" Kendra said, concerned.

Tucker jumped up and put his hand on T'Pol's shoulder. "T'Pol?"

Her eyes fluttered open.

"What's going on?" Tucker asked her.

"His motivation for helping us is not particularly verbal," she said, and Vehlen flushed green.

Tucker scowled. "Maybe he's playing you. Distracting you."

"I don't think so," T'Pol said. She hadn't removed his hand from Vehlen's face. Neither did Tucker remove his hand from T'Pol's shoulder. "Let us move on to your ideas for our escape, Mr. Vehlen."

He nodded slightly, still in thrall. He looked so vulnerable that Kendra felt a pang of anxiety for him. T'Pol started narrating his thought processes behind the plan he had recommended and Kendra felt oddly relieved at hearing what sounded something like his own voice at work -- even though it was coming out of T'Pol's mouth -- at least until it occurred to Kendra that they might actually have to carry his plan out.

Because it was just insane.

x x x

When T'Pol finally broke off the meld, she sat back a little woozily.

Tucker said, "You okay?"

She nodded briefly, and took a long breath. "He does genuinely believe that his plan has a better chance of success."

Tucker shared an unhappy glance with Kendra. "And you?" he said.

"I... am not certain," she said. "I fear that Mr. Vehlen may be overestimating his own abilities, or underestimating our enemies. I also have concerns about his ability to physically handle the effort involved. He is quite ill."

Vehlen said, "That works in our favor. They are likely to underestimate a man on his last legs."

"If those legs give out we would be in serious trouble," T'Pol said.

"That's why we are fortunate to have Kendra with us," Vehlen said. "But all you really need me to do is get you onto another ship, adequately provisioned. After that, I think you can handle it, as long as you have the stomach."

"It also depends on the ship," Tucker said, clearly annoyed. "What if it's not even warp capable? It would take us years to get home!"

"Please, Mr. Tucker, give me some credit. I've yet to meet a successful smuggler who runs slow ships. And I know this particular smuggler quite well."

"A smuggler could also be intercepted by the authorities," Tucker pointed out.

"Yes, but the authorities on Vierra earn a hefty percentage of the profits from this fellow. They won't interfere."

"Do you know what really bugs me about this?" Tucker said to T'Pol. He turned back to Vehlen. "I don't understand why you would betray your own people. I know they killed your family. I understand that you might despise the people who ordered that. But this goes way beyond that."

Vehlen scowled. "Our fearless leaders are using war as an excuse to destroy our republic and seize absolute power. I know Earth well enough to know that it poses no serious threat to my people even if it wins the war. I can't say the same for the Empire." He turned to T'Pol. "You believe me."

T'Pol nodded.

"There is not much time to prepare," Vehlen said. "We'll arrive at Vierra tomorrow morning."

T'Pol looked at Tucker. "Would you like to discuss this decision further in private?"

He sighed and shook his head, glancing at Kendra. "No. I'll follow your lead."

T'Pol stood up. "Then we have much to do."

Vehlen looked at Kendra. "First, we'll need some blood."

x x x

Kendra wondered if Vehlen could hear her heart pounding as the port opened and they walked out onto the surface of a planet Vehlen had described as "a scab on the ankle of the Empire." The bright heat and humidity slammed into her immediately, far beyond anything she had experienced in the Caribbean. Vehlen hesitated, perhaps also adjusting, before slowly moving forward. Trip had fashioned a cane for him, but Kendra kept her hand under his other elbow.

In the busy spaceport, heads turned to regard them -- some clearly Romulan, others from other species Kendra didn't recognize -- then quickly turned away.

She had dressed in Vehlen's simplest robe, slightly converted to look more appropriate for female wear, with a scarf patterned like some animal pelt draped around her neck and head. "You should look like a slave, but a slave of privilege," he had said. They had cut down a pair of his slippers to make her some ill-fitting shoes, since the Orions had taken her boots, but she was glad to have anything at all between her and the hot pavement. She could feel perspiration beading and rolling down her bare skin under the robe, and tightened her sweaty grip on the satchel in her other hand. It held the precious canister of oxygen and the medical scanner, as well as some food and water and various other items Vehlen had insisted they take with them.

He looked quite pale and sweat stood out on his own forehead. "Are you okay?" she asked, and heard it translate. Vehlen had given her a translator to wear around her neck.

"Just playing the part," he murmured, though she could tell he was truly in some distress. "I'm going to faint now."

"What?" But Vehlen had fallen to his knees, gasping and clutching his heart, then rolled onto the ground. She kneeled down next to him. "Vehlen?" She anxiously loosened his robes at the neck.

"This is where you were supposed to cause a scene," he said between gritted teeth.

Oh, right.

So she shrieked. Heads turned. She shrieked some more. The sound reminded her of her great grandmamma, a woman not known for her stoicism at gravesides or anywhere else, and she began to channel some of that full-throated tropical hysteria as she yelled, "What is dis fuckery! You drag me to this frickin' hellhole and now you want to die and leave me stranded?" She took out their bottle of water and dripped some of it on him. "Wake up, you worthless bloodclot!"

Bystanders watched, but not a soul came forward to help. Apparently it really was a frickin' hellhole. She shrieked a little more for good measure, then lifted Vehlen up to a sitting position and pounded on his back a little. "_Do _you need oxygen?" she hissed quietly.

"Not now," he said, coughing all too realistically.

She helped him up, not particularly gently, and they began to hobble unsteadily along. "_Bloodclot_?" he said. "Is that a doctor insult?"

"No, Jamaican."

"Oh. Nice." He pointed his chin at a nondescript grey door in a nearby, ramshackle building. "There's our destination. _Don't!"_ He tugged hard on her as she began, without thinking, to look back toward the ship they'd left behind.

"What if they didn't make it?"

"Looking won't help."

Once inside, they shuffled down a narrow, dismal hall to a nearly-empty waiting room of some kind, where an alien with an unnerving resemblance to a bat sat behind a counter. It eyed Vehlen, then nodded, and two other bat-like beings arose silently from chairs and escorted them as they slowly made their way into another room.

A corpulent Romulan behind a messy desk looked up, clearly surprised, and then smiled in greeting -- or perhaps winced would be more accurate. "Vehlen! What are you doing here?"

"Selling you my ship," Vehlen said. "You always said you wanted it."

"Yes, but that was before it became the subject of an Imperial search," the man said. "Who's your companion?"

"This is Kendra. Kendra, this is Fabian. Don't believe a word he says and you'll do fine."

Fabian's eyes sharpened and he abruptly dismissed the bat creatures. "She's one of the humans," he said. "Where's the other one?"

Vehlen smiled grimly. "Would you mind if I sit down? I'm afraid my heart is not up to all this excitement."

"Sit, sit. Make yourself comfortable. I had heard you were quite ill. Dying, in fact."

"Yes, I fear it's all too true." Vehlen sank into the lone chair that sat in front of the desk. Kendra stood uncertainly behind him.

"And the other human?" Fabian prompted him.

"You know, this whole thing started simply because I needed a female to get me through my _ponvau_. Unfortunately, Commander Tucker did not appreciate it when I required his Vulcan bond mate, and I wasn't exactly a model of restraint myself at the time. I'm afraid he's dead."

"But why would you buy him in the first place?" Fabian asked. "That was utter madness."

Vehlen shrugged. "Perhaps I was already in the early stages of the blood fever. I must admit I enjoyed the prospect of screwing with their plans. I can't say it makes much sense to me in retrospect."

Fabian shook his head. "They might have been content to let you go before, but now? Where's the body?" There was an unpleasant gleam in his eyes.

Vehlen coughed for a bit, and then Kendra marveled at the ease with which he lied as he said, "Floating in space somewhere between Rigel and here. Unfortunately, when the Vulcan recovered from our exertions, she was quite distraught at having lost her mate. Blew herself _and_ his corpse out my airlock. Such a waste. His body would have still been worth something. And I had certainly found _hers _quite satisfying too."

Kendra balled her fists, a little surprised at how thoroughly even his lies could infuriate her.

Fabian's eyes had narrowed. "Can you prove any of this?"

_"Prove?"_ Vehlen chuckled. "Would there be any point? Though I suppose we haven't had time to clean up all the mess quite yet, have we?" He looked up at Kendra. "She's a physician, did you know that? Quite useful in that regard. _Not_ much of housekeeper. Give me a decent price for my ship and I'll throw her in with the deal, once I'm dead. I fear it won't be long."

"They're probably already in there. They'll take that ship apart looking for that engineer." He nodded at Kendra. "Likely to take her apart, too."

Kendra swallowed.

"That would be a waste of time. She wouldn't tell them anything different than I just told you," Vehlen said. "Come now, Fabian. Even if they make a mess with their investigations, she'll still be a fine ship. She's top of the line and you know it. Help an old friend out. I need cash. Not a lot. You'd be getting an excellent deal."

"What makes you think you'll get a chance to spend it?"

"All I need is another week or two," Vehlen said. "I simply want to get my slave and myself on the next ship heading to Kalpurnia, so I can settle my affairs there before I die. There are certain ... independent ... parties on that planet that are depending on certain dispensations from my estate. You understand."

Fabian stared at him, frowning. "I don't have any departures until tomorrow. And that's the _Trevia -_- not exactly a comfortable ride."

"It will have to do. For now, I merely require enough to allow us to stay comfortably at the Eagle's Wing tonight, and perhaps lay in a few supplies for the trip. I suppose I might as well try to make a profit on the journey while I can."

Fabian stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Aren't you afraid I'll turn you in?"

"Oh -- well, yes, of course I am," Vehlen said. "But I believe you have_ also _profited a great deal from our independent-minded friends on Kalpurnia, have you not? I don't believe you'd want the _Tal Shiar_ to know quite how much."

Fabian scowled and opened a drawer. He pulled out some currency and handed it over. "You'll need to sign her over to me. The ship _and_ your ... physician." He gave Kendra a skeptical once-over.

"Of course," Vehlen said smoothly. "Have your people prepare the papers."

Kendra stiffened, suddenly doubting this whole set-up. "What are you--"

"Silence, slave!" Vehlen barked.

She shut up. Could he really be double-crossing her as easily as this, or was this part of the performance?

Vehlen coughed. "Let me be clear about our terms, Fabian. This one here only becomes yours upon my death -- and that must be either natural, or at the hands of the government, and no sooner than a fortnight from now, or the deal's void and she gets her freedom. I realize that's a little peculiar, but a man wants to enjoy some companionship in his final days. Agreed?"

"As you wish," Fabian said, as if it made little difference. "I still think I'll be lucky if there's anything left of your ship _or_ your slave. But as you say, you are an old friend." His smile was chilling. "If you will step out, my assistant will give you documents to sign and the details for your trip tomorrow. For both our sakes, I suggest you attempt to avoid drawing attention to yourself."

"Of course," Vehlen said. "You have been a true friend. _Jolan'tru!"_

_"Jolan'tru,"_ the other man answered, with a grimace, and Kendra could feel his eyes on her back as they left the room.

x x x

Vehlen carefully read and signed the padds placed in front of him, then a bat creature ushered them through a hallway door and along a twisting passageway to the back of the building to a door that opened onto a busy street. Vehlen immediately hailed a passing vehicle and requested the same establishment he had named to Fabian earlier. Then he slouched against the seat, wheezing.

She took out the oxygen canister, opened the nozzle and held it under his nose with her other hand forming an informal hood until he took hold of it himself and copied her. Unfortunately, they couldn't carry the EV helmet with them, which meant much of the precious gas was being wasted.

He breathed for awhile, his color gradually improving, and finally handed the canister back to her just before the vehicle stopped in front of a surprisingly opulent hotel.

She looked askance at him. He paid the driver, then got out and waited for her to follow. To her dismay, he walked right in and registered at the front desk, took the key provided, fussed for a moment, demanded a different room on the first floor, then insisted on going straight to it. Once there, he immediately took the scanner from the satchel and prowled the entire space, scanning until satisfied.

She watched him with helpless curiosity. It seemed hotel rooms were much the same the galaxy over, although this one was more luxurious than most, thick with drapes and hangings. It also had grills on the windows that she found oppressive, considering their situation.

"What are we doing here?" she said.

"Drawing attention to ourselves." He gave her a wicked grin, and lay down on the bed. "Care to try it out with me?"

"No!"

He commed the front desk. "I need a physician immediately. Please see to it." He smiled at her. "Let us establish just how dire my condition is," he said. "Besides, you felt I could use some medications, did you not?"

"But shouldn't we be...?"

"Not yet. Provisions, my dear. Provisions. Would you like to take a shower? You look hot and bothered."

"How do you know Fabian isn't turning us in right now?"

"Fabian _is_ turning us in right now."

She stared incredulously at him. "Then what are we doing here?"

"Take a shower, Kendra. Go cool off. I know what I'm doing."

"If that were true, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

He smiled. "Touché. Well, if I prove to be wrong, you won't have to blame me for very long. We'll each have other, more pressing concerns."

x x x

She fumed all through the shower -- although it felt wonderful -- then fumed some more when she came out and watched a local doctor, a man who looked both morose and wary, finish his examination. "You have suffered significant damage to the valves of your heart," the doctor said. "I fear there is little to be done; as you suggested, it is a terminal condition."

Kendra frowned. She'd concluded the same, but it was still chilling to hear it pronounced.

"How long do I have?"

The doctor smiled. "Such matters are necessarily imprecise. I would prefer not to even attempt an estimate."

"And I would prefer that you did," Vehlen said sharply.

The man held up one hand as if he were weighing something in it. "One, two months? Perhaps more, with proper care and fortune's embrace?"

"And what would constitute proper care?" Vehlen asked carefully, his eyes shifting to Kendra.

The doctor shrugged. "A steady supply of oxygen, certain helpful medications, sufficient rest and nutrition... You should take some care to avoid undue exertion, but at the same time, you must not allow yourself to become sedentary. Once you become bedridden, death will follow quickly."

"Sexual activity?" Vehlen said, with a smirk.

Kendra folded her arms and scowled.

The doctor glanced up at her and said, "I suppose you'd have to decide whether it's worth the risk."

Vehlen sobered. "Have the supplies you mentioned delivered here within the hour. Enough to last us at least a month. We're taking a long journey tomorrow morning."

"Of course, sir," the doctor said, then bowed low and backed out of the room almost as if Vehlen were royalty. Apparently he retained some sort of rank or position that the man recognized.

Kendra said, "So what's next? Room service? Pay per view?"

Vehlen chuckled. "I want a shower. And then one of the local traders is coming by to show me his wares."

"You're not serious."

"You need shoes that fit, don't you? Perhaps other items as well?"

"They could pick us up at any moment!"

"That's not how it works, my dear. Not for someone of my rank, in this setting. They're investigating my story, deciding whether it's worth the potential exposure to pursue me when I'm clearly dying anyway, especially if your colleagues are no longer a factor and they believe they can regain control of either of us at any time. And even if they do decide to move, they'll do it when no one is watching."

"No one is watching now."

"They'd still have to get us out of the building." He shrugged and coughed. "Do you think I could have a bit more oxygen?"

Kendra improvised a hood out of a wash cloth and gave him the canister, then went to the window and stood looking out at the bustling street below. Most of the people that passed were Romulans or those bat-creatures -- Remans, Vehlen had called them -- though she also saw the occasional Orion, Coridanite, and Rigelian, as well as other species she did not recognize -- as well as a couple of people who looked human, or close enough to pass.

"Are there _humans_ here?" she said.

"Quite possibly," Vehlen said. "But they'd be slaves, of course."

Of course.

Eventually she became aware that a man across the street was keeping a steady eye on the Inn and their room in particular, and backed away from the window instinctively. "We're being watched," she said.

"Yes," Vehlen said. His color had improved significantly, and he put the canister aside and took a deep breath. "Of course we are." He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Care to join me in the shower?"

"No!"

"Probably just as well. We really don't have time for that sort of thing right now."

"We're _never_ going to have time for that sort of thing."

"Your loss," he said, and shed his robe in front of her as if determined to prove it.

He did have a fine figure. She scowled and turned back to the window. Captor, slave owner, rapist, spy, murderer. She recited the litany to herself as she watched the busy street below and kept a discreet eye on the agent who was watching them. It wasn't her fault she found Vehlen attractive, even in his debility: it was the bond's fault -- this bond she'd never asked for and didn't want. Even if she _had_ found him interesting before -- and if she was completely honest with herself, she had -- that didn't mean she would ever have seen him as anything more than an oddly compelling but irretrievably awful man.

Was this why Trip had broken it off with T'Pol back on _Enterprise?_ Because he could never truly trust that his connection with T'Pol was something he had chosen of his own free will? Or, for that matter, that she had, either?

Then again, even among humans, who ever fell in love _by choice? __Choice_ only entered in as you decided what to do about it ... whether to pursue it or let it fade away ... whether to stick it out or run ... whether the commitments made in the heat of infatuation were serious enough to carry you through the fights and the day-to-day friction and occasional sheer boredom of living with another human being who really just didn't seem to appreciate you nearly as well as he had at the beginning.

Trip had tried to exercise that choice by walking away from T'Pol before, and Kendra would not be surprised if he did it again when all this was over, assuming they survived long enough to have that conversation. Except that he could never truly separate himself, could he? Nor could T'Pol. If Vehlen was right, there would be no starting over for either as long as they both lived.

She _ought_ to be relieved that for her, Vehlen's death would put an end to this. But she wasn't.

Of course, they could _all_ be dead very soon anyway, making all this angst about relationships pretty damned irrelevant.

When Vehlen came out, looking refreshed if pale, the desk commed them with the news that the apothecary had arrived with an order and a tradesman had arrived with a cargo container. "I'll see them both in the buyer's room," Vehlen said, with easy authority, and turned to her. "Do you have everything?" he asked her.

"_Now_ we're going?"

"Better leave the canister, it's probably nearly empty anyway. Tuck that satchel under your robe. That's it. I have a question for you."

She waited.

"Have you ever suffered from claustrophobia?"

"What?"

"We're about to spend a number of hours in a small, dark, airless space. If you find that difficult, you might want to consider taking a sedative of some kind. I already asked the doctor for a script, so we'll have them available."

"A small, dark, airless space_?_" she asked, thrown for a loop. This hadn't been part of any plan she remembered them discussing.

"Sedative or no, Kendra? Time is of the essence."

"I'm sure as hell not taking any sedative around _you_," she said. "And what do you mean by _airless_?"

"You're going to have to trust me on this one," he said. "We've made our appearance. Now we have to make our disappearance."

x x x

Less than an hour later, Kendra was lying on her side in the dark, cramped bottom of a cargo container with a sick Romulan curled behind her. They had just enough room to pass the oxygen mask the apothecary had provided back and forth. Any attempts she made to talk he shushed.

She knew the plan was to get aboard the smuggler's ship. But she had assumed they would walk on as passengers, not be loaded on as cargo.

"How long are we going to be in here?" she whispered furiously, refusing to be quieted.

"As long as it takes," he whispered back. "Keep quiet!"

Eventually there was the mildly nauseating sensation of being lifted, swinging, and moved, then deposited into a vehicle of some kind, which bumped and clanked along a noisy highway for awhile before coming to a stop.

There were voices, rumbles, clanks. They were lifted again and moved and deposited somewhere. Kendra became conscious of growing heat, even more than she was already getting off Vehlen's naturally higher body temperature in close quarters, and wondered if they were outside, baking in the late afternoon sun. She wouldn't give them very long if that were the case. But then there was more lifting and it sounded as if they were being rolled into a new, cooler position. A heavy clank settled them into place. Another, heavier clank settled overhead, and then another.

"Damn," Vehlen whispered.

"What?"

"We're on the bottom."

"So?"

He was quiet. She grew conscious of his coppery, musky smell and his shallow, crackling breaths.

"Vehlen?"

"Don't worry," he said.

But _he_ was worried. She could tell. He rubbed his hand up and down her bare arm, comforting her, or perhaps himself.

For once, she didn't object to his touch.

_**To be continued**_


	13. Chapter 13

Warnings and disclaimers in Chapter 1. And many thanks, as always, for your reviews.

* * *

Kendra awoke after dozing off for she didn't know how long and wondered how much oxygen they had left. Vehlen had said the eight hours in one canister should be more than sufficient. There were more canisters in the cargo container, but they were on the other side of the false floor they were lying under.

She wished the meal he'd told the desk he wanted to go out for had actually occurred, because she was now very hungry. On the other hand she probably would have had to pee by now if she'd had anything to drink. Instead of leaving for the dinner he'd spoken of, Vehlen had bundled her into this container the tradesman had delivered and then joined her, with the help of the tradesman, who apparently had been content to keep their secret in exchange for his money and the stash of blue beverages that had been in the false bottom when they first uncovered it.

Vehlen began to softly cough. His lungs were no doubt slowly filling and he would inevitably start coughing more. Ultimately, she could end up trapped in a tiny dark space with drowning, panicking man.

She began trying once again to push up on the false bottom.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to sit up."

"Not yet."

"Yes, now."

He rasped for a moment, then said. "Let me." He rolled away and Kendra heard a soft 'click'. Then he pushed up.

Nothing happened. Vehlen exhaled impatiently.

"Did that guy lock us in?" she asked.

"There's no lock. Probably there's just too much on top. Apparently I don't have quite the strength I used to have." He coughed again.

She joined him in pushing up, and felt a little movement. "It's coming," she said, grunting, and gradually the end of their false ceiling lifted a bit. They shook it until stuff began to shift out of the way. Still, their progress was minimal, perhaps 10 centimeters, and holding it up wasn't easy.

"How the hell were you _expecting_ us to get out of here?" she said.

He let go and lay back breathlessly. The false floor settled back over them again. "They'll have to get us out."

"Who?"

"Your comrades." He coughed, louder.

"How do you know they're even on board? Or that if they are, they're expecting us to be in the bottom of a cargo container?"

"We don't know for certain if they're on board. But if they are, the message I sent them should have made it clear."

Kendra blinked in the darkness. When had he sent a message? "So we could just be stuck in this thing until we run out of air? Or are poisoned by our own carbon dioxide?"

"I put a CO2 collector in with us. That won't be a problem. But lack of oxygen will be, if we can't get at the other canisters. You should probably try yelling for help before this one runs out." He was definitely wheezing.

She stuck the mask on his face. "When will that happen?"

"I don't know. Soon." He coughed. "I'm sorry, Kendra. If I had a weapon with me, as I normally would, I could have simply burned through this panel."

"With _oxygen canisters_ lying around?"

He was silent for a long moment. Then, sounding truly mortified, he said, "Perhaps I'm losing my edge."

Hell of a time for him to figure that out.

Kendra started yelling. She yelled until she lost her voice. There was no response. She tried pounding on the side of the canister. It was not made of a material that carried sound very well and she had little hope that anybody who wasn't standing close by would hear it.

It took her awhile to realize the canister wasn't hissing anymore.

"Vehlen."

No response, just rapid, shallow wheezing.

"Vehlen." She shook him. He groaned slightly but didn't rouse. Vulcans could get by on much less oxygen than humans, so this didn't exactly bode well for her. On the other hand, Romulans might be different. Or at least Romulans in heart failure might be different.

What a way to go. Locked in the sweaty false bottom of a box somewhere in the Romulan Empire.

She tried to school her breathing. Unfortunately, attempting to slowly count and breathe 1-2-3, 1-2-3 in her head, an old calming technique from her residency days, somehow just emphasized that her respiration was in fact much faster and shallower than it should be. No doubt her body was trying to cope with the thinning air.

She hoped Trip and T'Pol were still alive, somewhere. Perhaps they'd make better speed home without her in tow. Maybe they could still help to prevent a war, or to win one.

She didn't dare think that they might already have been captured.

_Think about rejoining your family,_ she thought, and tried to summon up her children's faces in her mind's eye, but instead she found herself clasping Vehlen's warm hand in hers and imagining that he returned at least some slight pressure. There was no doubt something really screwed up in her relief that she wasn't alone in here, that she was sharing her final moments with the man who'd hatched this ridiculous plan.

Was that a noise outside? She pounded on the side of the container without much hope, and was shocked when it tapped back at her. A voice said something, but it sounded very far away. She knocked again. Then there were more voices, some clanking. Her hope rose, but whatever it was that was being done was taking awfully long. She was gasping like a fish out of water now. Perhaps she'd dreamed the tapping. Perhaps it had been a hallucination brought on by apoxia, like the odd grey light that now began to bloom around her.

Somebody was messing with her face.

She took a deep breath. A long, deep, cleansing breath, and then another. She blinked rapidly and squinted up into the blurry face of a Romulan framed by a hood.

No, wait - it was T'Pol. T'Pol! Vehlen had given her at least the suggestion of forehead ridges with some make-up he had on his ship.

T'Pol put a finger on her mouth, and Kendra stayed silent, content simply to breathe. The overhead panel that had trapped them was gone and she was lying buried in a pile of the container's contents with just her head exposed. Next to her, Vehlen was hidden under a cloth but his breath came in short rattles that were so loud in her ear Kendra was surprised they weren't being heard by anyone else in the room.

If he awoke, he would surely start coughing. She darted an alarmed look at T'Pol.

"I'm afraid I will have to discipline my slave about this packing job," T'Pol said loudly, raising her head to address someone else. "These contents have shifted badly."

"Look, lady," a man's nasally voice said. "We warned you to carry any luggage you'll need during your trip into your cabin _with you_. We can't have people diving into the cargo bay whenever the whim takes them."

"Unfortunately I didn't learn about this container's delivery until shortly before departure," T'Pol said. "I would be delighted if you could transfer it to our cabin."

"A whole _container?"_ the voice protested. "It wouldn't fit through the door."

"Then I will need some time to set it in order. If you would be so kind as to escort my slave here?"

"I'll get him," the voice said sullenly. "Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to you. The captain has killed for less."

T'Pol raised her voice. "Do you have some sort of cart or trolley? I will of course want to transfer anything I am likely to need to my cabin so we won't need to importune you again."

Kendra heard the man depart, grumbling.

"Assume that we are being monitored," T'Pol said softly, with her hand over her mouth. "It took some time to persuade them to let me access this container. I apologize for the delay. It was most unfortunate." She paused. "Vehlen appears to be unconscious."

"Hand me another oxygen canister," Kendra rasped out, her voice ravaged from yelling for help earlier. "We should have kept them closer." T'Pol rummaged and handed one to her. Kendra hurriedly uncovered Vehlen, whose face had turned grey, and replaced the canister. "He's going to start choking as soon as he comes around," she warned T'Pol. "We won't be able to keep him quiet."

T'Pol frowned. "Then we will need to create a distraction. Unless we can prevent him from waking."

Kendra looked up at her, startled. Just what did she mean by that?

T'Pol merely raised a cool eyebrow and looked up as a noise sounded some distance away, presumably the hatch. "Slave! Your packing job was inexcusably poor. You have a great deal of work to do, and clearly this time I will have to supervise it myself."

The original crewman's voice rose. "I have other duties, I can't just stand around here waiting for you to pack up your things. You have about twenty minutes. When I come back, that container is going back in its place whether you're ready or not."

T'Pol drew herself up. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Can't be too special if you're on_ this _ship," the man sneered, and left with a slam of the hatch.

"Guess he told you," Tucker murmured, and peered down at Kendra. Vehlen had attached a facial appliance to his nose and dyed his hair brown and explained that he was now a Bajoran, which meant nothing to them. Vehlen had said it was a good fit for Tucker because the species was notorious for its bad attitude.

"Don't be insolent," T'Pol said now, and whacked him lightly on the back of the head. More softly, she added, "We are under surveillance."

Tucker grimaced. "What do you want me to do, _Mistress?" _

"Bring that cart here," she said. "First I want to transfer a great deal of this to our cabin. I want these hangings _and_ my bedclothes," T'Pol said, pointing at both Kendra and Vehlen. "My cabin is appallingly under-appointed. Since speed is of the essence, I will assist you."

"Med supplies," Kendra whispered, and T'Pol nodded.

Soon Kendra was lifted out, wrapped in cloth, which felt even more claustrophobic than lying in the dark bottom of the container. They set her down next to a mass that had to be Vehlen, since it was audibly wheezing, and then the weight increased slightly on top as they added various items, presumably to further disguise their presence or perhaps because they might need them.

"Now are you _quite _sure that's all you need, mistress? You're sure you don't want to try to empty the _entire_ container into this cart?" Trip asked, and then said, "Ow!"

Then they were gliding smoothly along. Apparently the cart had an anti-gravity function.

"Hey!" she heard a strange voice say. The cart stopped. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Transporting my luggage," T'Pol said coldly. "Your crewman declined to move my container to my cabin."

"You're not supposed to be in the cargo bay," the voice said. "I made that clear to you when you first came aboard."

"You can hardly expect me to stay in a cabin that is so utterly lacking in amenities. I required these items simply to bring it up to the barest standards of dignity."

"If dignity was what you wanted, you should have chosen a passenger liner. This is a freighter."

"Yes. Unfortunately, speed was also of the essence."

There was a slight pause, before the voice asked, "And _why_ are you making this trip again?"

T'Pol kept silent. Kendra wondered how the man could avoid hearing Vehlen's wheezing, and perhaps Tucker had the same thought because he began to cough.

The man said, "If you're running from someone, lady, perhaps you should care less about dignity and more about discretion. And in the Praetor's name, what do you need that panel for?"

"I require a barrier between me and my slave while I sleep."

"I certainly hope you're not planning to try to smuggle ale through the port at Kalpurnia without that panel in place. You could get all of us in trouble."

"I would hardly lower myself to carrying contraband!"

"Right," the man said skeptically. "Tell you what, blossom. My other passengers never showed up. So you can have the second cabin if you want it - for the same price, of course."

"It would only be for my slave."

"A cabin is a cabin. Same price."

"Very well," T'Pol said, after a moment's hesitation. "I will take it."

"You can bring me the money at dinner." There was a pregnant pause, and Tucker began to cough industriously again. Then the man said, "Or we could arrange a barter... if you'd appreciate having more appropriate company in your cabin."

"That is hardly likely," T'Pol said.

"Oh, you may change your mind after you get to know me better," the man said, and laughed as he walked off.

More gliding, a clunk or two, and then Kendra was being gently unrolled from her cloth prison. "You all right?" Tucker asked, once they had her standing.

She nodded, breathing deeply and shaking herself out. "Vehlen?" she asked.

They unwrapped him from where he had been cocooned with his oxygen mask and lay him on the bunk.

"No, no, sitting up," Kendra said, and leaped forward to arrange pillows behind him. She began to pat his cheeks. His eyes fluttered but didn't open. His breathing was labored and crackling with moisture. "Where's the scanner?"

T'Pol looked at Tucker, then went to find it and handed it over, along with the bag of medical supplies the apothecary had brought. Kendra scanned; by now she had learned to at least roughly interpret its readings and they weren't good. She scrabbled through the medicine, which seemed to be in single dosages, so even though she couldn't read the labels she went ahead and administered a hypospray. Maybe it would help. It was hard to believe anything could hurt at this point.

"Well, he did get us on another ship," Tucker said. "Though I'm not sure it's going to be as easy to abscond with as he made it sound."

Kendra frowned. It sounded to her as if Trip was already writing Vehlen's obituary.

"We will gather more information during dinner," T'Pol said. "We need to know how many crewman are on board. So far I have only seen three."

"There has to be more than that," Trip said. He explained to Kendra, "This ship must do _a lot_ of smuggling. It's riddled with sensor baffles. You can't get a good scan of anything. But that also works in our favor, with two extra life signs in here."

Kendra looked up from Vehlen, chilled by a sudden thought. "What if they're monitoring us right now?"

Tucker smiled crookedly and pointed up at a corner of the ceiling. "Their device has developed an unfortunate fault."

"Which they will no doubt attempt to fix," T'Pol said. "Possibly during dinner. We need to devise a way to hide Dr. Gonzalez and Mr. Vehlen."

"There's not exactly a lot of room to play with here," Trip said, hands on hips. "Especially if he's unconscious. Unless, of course, he can _stay_ unconscious."

"That's not an option!" Kendra said, irritated. She tried patting Vehlen's cheeks again. "Come on, Vehlen," she said. "You've got to wake up. Time's a wasting, mon." She molested his face until he began to turn it away from her. "That's it. Come on. Wake up. I need you to wake up _now_!"

He began to cough and choke and gag and Kendra couldn't believe how beautiful the sound was. "That's it," she said, encouraging him. She turned her head to Tucker, "You know the routine. Let's get him up."

Tucker flashed a look at T'Pol that Kendra understood all too well: Why were they wasting their effort on this?

"He can still help us!" Kendra insisted.

"He can still sell us out, too," Tucker muttered, but he helped her get him upright.

"He won't," Kendra said. She rubbed Vehlen's back as he coughed.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Tucker said.

For once, she felt certain. "Because he has nothing to gain by it."

Vehlen stiffened, but didn't say anything. He had no breath to say it with.

x x x

Once Vehlen had recovered sufficiently for conversation, he wanted to hear about their interactions with the crew. "There probably won't be more than five or six crewmen in total," he said. "And most of them will be asleep during the night shift. So that's the ideal time to act -- tonight, before anyone back on Vierra figures out that we're here."

"How do you know they haven't already figured it out?" Tucker said.

Vehlen was slowly pacing back and forth, partly because Kendra had urged him to walk. "Well, they think _you're_ dead, if we're lucky. As for me and Kendra, I'm hoping they won't expect us to be exactly where we said we would be after we failed to show up. But sooner or later, they'll track us back to the tradesman, even if he does have every incentive to keep quiet, and it's safe to assume they'll figure it out after that. That's why we have to take control of this ship as soon as possible."

"From five or six crewmembers ... with one particle weapon," Tucker said.

"One particle weapon _and_ the element of surprise," Vehlen said. "But there is a possible complication."

They waited.

Vehlen sighed, which made him cough. "I have no reason to think the captain of the _Trevia_ is anyone other than your average low-life scumbag smuggler. However, it's possible he's actually a _Tal-Shiar_ agent. If so, he will be very dangerous, and this ship may also be rigged with a self-destruct mechanism. For that matter, any other member of the crew could also be _Tal Shiar_. So our appropriation of this ship must be fast and complete, with no opportunity for reaction from any of the crew."

"Oh, is that all," Tucker said sourly.

"I suggest you gather as much information as you can over dinner," Vehlen said. "And if you can find a way to lure the captain into this cabin later tonight, that would probably help." He looked at T'Pol. "The man is somewhat notorious for his appetites."

T'Pol said, "Yes. I don't believe that getting him here will prove difficult."

Tucker scowled. "May I _please_ be the one who shoots him?"

"I would suggest a Vulcan nerve pinch followed by _tal-shaya_," Vehlen said. "The faster and quieter the death, the better. If he's _Tal Shiar_ he could have a self-destruct device embedded in his teeth, or almost anywhere." When T'Pol and Tucker stared at him, he said to T'Pol, "You _are_ familiar with _tal-shaya_?"

T'Pol said. "I'm familiar with it. I've never employed it on a living being_._ You would have me kill an unconscious man?"

"Unconscious, conscious, what's the difference, as long as he ends up dead?"

T'Pol and Tucker looked at each other.

"Look, do you want to get safely home or not?" Vehlen said. He threw his hands up in the air. "You know, this is why your planet is doomed! You people simply don't have the stomach for _war._ If you don't accept that tonight the entire crew of this ship has to die, you might as well just hand yourselves over to them right now. But do me a favor and let me do myself in first, because I don't want to be here when it happens." He stopped and bent over, hands on his legs, trying to catch his breath.

Kendra stared at her comrades. They looked as sucker-punched as she was. It was one thing to fight for control of a vessel -- quite another to contemplate the efficient murder of every member of its crew.

Vehlen sat down heavily on the bunk and looked up at them, his expression haggard. "What'll it be, children?"

"I don't believe the choice needs to be quite that stark," T'Pol said.

"No, it doesn't -- if you don't really care whether you succeed." He coughed and shook his head in disgust. "Look, these are smugglers. They are _maggots."_ He struggled to catch his breath. "They would sell you out in a second if they knew who you were." He pointed a finger at Tucker. "And believe me, if this captain thinks he can safely blackmail your bond mate into doing him, he will."

"I simply meant that we could put any survivors into an escape pod and jettison them," T'Pol said calmly.

"Where they could be picked up and tell their story. I don't need to remind you that this is a shipping lane, do I?"

"Then we will have to keep them under guard until we find a suitable place to deposit them."

Vehlen clenched his jaw, then spoke with exaggerated patience. "We barely have enough people to run this ship as it is. You think you can also guard hostile prisoners who may have the means and desire to destroy this ship and everyone in it?"

Trip said, "He's right, T'Pol."

T'Pol turned to him. "You would have us murder the entire crew?"

Trip's eyes looked harder than Kendra had ever seen them. "We need to get those energy signatures to Starfleet. They could be our only defense against their cloaking devices. We don't have the luxury of worrying about our consciences. This has to work flawlessly, or it could all be for nothing."

T'Pol swallowed. "We do not know that war has even been declared yet."

"Maybe having these signatures could keep war from breaking out in the first place."

Kendra had known when she joined Starfleet that she might be in the position of defending herself and her shipmates with deadly force someday. Somehow she'd never imagined that she'd ever have to be on the _offensive. _"A hypospray can also be a weapon," she said. "I can sedate them. And I can keep them sedated, at least for a day or two. Perhaps that would buy us time to find a more humane solution."

Vehlen shook his head. "You want to be humane? Losing these few lives could spare many millions more."

"You can't know that," T'Pol said. "If we behave as ruthlessly as our enemies, what makes us any different from them? As a Romulan yourself, you are perhaps not equipped to fully appreciate those differences ... or to understand our objection to murdering noncombatants. I think your suggestion has merit, doctor."

"It's a mistake!" Vehlen said.

T'Pol's eyebrow rose. "It might also be useful to Starfleet to have access to at least one ordinary Romulan who is untrained in intelligence, and may provide a different outlook on your people than you would. If you feel strongly about killing yourself before we start, however, that is of course up to you." The invitation was implicit.

Kendra stared at her, appalled, but Vehlen grimaced and said nothing. Apparently it had been an idle threat.

T'Pol turned to Tucker. "We will do as much planning as we can at this point, gather more information at dinner, and make any necessary adjustments afterwards. And we will endeavor to prevent the unnecessary loss of life -- but only in so far as we can do so without endangering ourselves or our mission."

Tucker folded his arms, looking a little skeptical, but nodded.

Vehlen said, "You'd better hope that nobody you spare is a _Tal-Shiar_ agent. At least try to find out who the newest member of the crew is, or if there are any other passengers."

"We will do that," T'Pol said.

Vehlen nodded. He looked grim, even depressed.

Was it because T'Pol had not taken his advice? Or was it something else?

_**To be continued**_


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimers and warnings in Chapter One.

**Author's Note:** My wonderful beta JustTrip'n and I diverged on some issues pretty strongly beginning in this chapter. Just thought you should know she's a kinder, gentler author than I am. She's also a very good one, so if you haven't read her stuff, you should. Some of her E2 stories running right now are rated M (but not NC17), so you have to adjust the ratings manually at the top of the page to get to them.

* * *

Two hours later, Kendra found herself standing with Vehlen behind a wall of velvet draperies that Tucker had managed to hang on the bulkhead. Trip had left just enough space so that they could avoid betraying their shapes through the fabric, and perhaps lean a bit on the wall behind them, but it was less than ideal in terms of comfort. Kendra sincerely hoped dinner wouldn't take long. Fortunately, T'Pol had included her satchel in the cart, so she and Vehlen had been able to eat something.

He was doing without oxygen, having coughed out the worst of the congestion in his lungs. He had also been able to tell her what the labels on the various medicines said; luckily, the one she'd already given him had been nothing worse than a diuretic. Armed with more information, she'd given him a dose of another drug that supported general heart function. He looked much better and was standing without complaint, though he was still unusually quiet and grim.

"Something bothering you?" she finally asked.

"Why would anything be bothering me? I'm only dying of heart failure, betraying my people, and standing behind a curtain like an idiot."

She smiled. "Yeah, okay, but I get the feeling that's not it."

"No doubt because you know me so well." He sounded bitter.

She blinked up at him. In close quarters like this, in the dim red light that was all that could get through the drapes, his physical presence was impossible to ignore. It was just the bond, she reminded herself, and slid away a step.

"Tell me," he said. "What does it take for a man to earn your good opinion?"

"What?"

"You heard the question. How, for example, did Ruben Gonzalez, MD earn your good opinion?"

"That's not really any of your business."

"Then he was good in bed?"

She scowled. "Yes, but that's not what I meant. I _meant_ it's none of your business."

"Come on, Kendra. Humor a dying man."

She gritted her teeth in annoyance. "The absolute _last_ thing I'm going to respond to is the 'dying man' gambit."

His jaw tightened. "You think everything I do is a gambit, don't you? But I'm serious. What does it take? Good works? Intellect? A great sense of humor? Athleticism? Wealth? Status?"

She snorted. Ruben had indeed held status as a talented doctor and scientist, but he had abhorred even the slightest suggestion of status or wealth -- except, of course, for his status as an egalitarian who deplored status and wealth. "Ruben discovered a method by which one could accurately predict the most likely mutations in any given bacterium in any given population. It was a breakthrough that revolutionized infectious disease prevention."

Vehlen was a silent for a moment. Then he said, "I don't think I could match that."

"No," she agreed.

"So it was general brilliance as well as being good in bed?"

"No, he was also a good man. His major goal in life was to save lives."

Vehlen brooded over this for awhile. Eventually, he cleared his throat and said, "I know you may not believe this, but that has always been my goal too."

She almost laughed out loud. "Yet you've racked up a pretty impressive body count. What was it you were just arguing for earlier?"

"I said it before and I meant it. Sometimes a few people must die so that many more can live. And anyway, I said it was my _goal._ I didn't say I achieved it." He sighed and coughed. "I know I am a failure."

She looked up at him, surprised.

"I want to help you," he said. "It would make me feel a little better about all this." He stopped and swallowed. "I think it's the best thing I can do for my people now, but I would also like to earn your good opinion, if I can."

When she didn't respond, because she had no idea _how _to respond, he dryly added, "I realize that's somewhat unlikely."

She stared up at him in the dim crimson light, into the dark pool of his eyes, and felt her heart beat faster.

Could he truly mean what he said? Or was this just another game? Was she a woman responding to a man baring his soul, or just another fly being enticed into the web? She _felt _that he meant what he said, but feelings were untrustworthy; indeed, it was quite possible he was influencing her with this bond in ways he wouldn't have been able to otherwise.

The cabin door slid open.

Vehlen turned, as did she, her hand tightening on the hypospray. He had their weapon, a sign that Tucker and T'Pol had decided to trust him for now. Of course, neither item was particularly useful from behind a thick curtain.

A man guffawed. "Oh, by the Praetor's daughter, look at this! Doesn't she know she's disembarking tomorrow?"

"She must be a fine lady," another other, higher male voice said. "Used to comfort."

"I'll wager you _she_ disabled that camera."

"Well now, if you knew it was there, you'd do the same. Especially if you knew what the captain was doing with it." The man's distaste was clear.

"We don't get many passengers we'd _want _to watch, do we? I wouldn't mind a peek at this one myself."

There was a grunt, and the sound of equipment being fiddled with. _"Fvadt,"_ the first guy said. "It's ruined. He's not going to like this."

"We could take the one out of the other cabin, install it in here."

"Yeah, we could, but I'm not doing anything he doesn't tell me to first. I learned that lesson, didn't I? Let's go. It's always better to give him bad news _after_ he eats."

They left, and silence fell.

Kendra sighed in relief. "So far, so good."

"Mmm."

"Do you think we really need to stay behind here?"

"Better safe than sorry," he said. "But if you need to get something..."

"No."

More silence.

"I've made you uncomfortable," he said.

"I don't know what to think about you," she said. "That's the honest truth. And right now, I'm a lot more focused on what we have to do tonight. Either or both of those men could end up dead because of us. They may not be innocent lambs, but they're still some mothers' children."

"They're not the only ones who could end up dead – so could you. So could a great many other mothers' children on your planet if you fail."

She managed a faint laugh. "But hey, no pressure!"

"You'll do fine," he said, and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. Without quite knowing how, she ended up against his chest while he rubbed a soothing hand across her back.

"I wish I could say I didn't sign up for this, but I obviously did," she said, trying to get a handle on her emotions. "Maybe I didn't really think it through. I'm not sure I have what it takes for Starfleet. I'm scared out of my wits."

"Even the toughest woman in the universe gets scared sometimes," he said. "And you're far from the toughest woman in the universe. You're tough enough, though."

"Tough!" she snorted, disbelieving, and sniffled a little as her emotions spilled over. She held on to him, utterly ignoring her better judgment in order to take what comfort she could.

"You're certainly tough on me," he said. He produced a handkerchief. "Blow your nose."

She almost laughed. "Romulans carry handkerchiefs?"

"I would assume that most sentient beings with noses do."

"Actually, humans use paper tissues," she said. "They're disposable. Don't you know these things are germ factories?"

"Romulans believe in toughening up the immune system, not protecting it."

Oh, that just figured. Ruthless in all things, even microbiology. No wonder a man his age could be dying from complications of what appeared to be a fairly commonplace infection. She said, "By that logic, you ought to want to toughen me up, not protect me."

"True," Vehlen said softly. He tipped her chin up until she was looking at him. "But for better or worse, you're my mate and I want to protect you. Let me."

She stared up at him. He leaned down and kissed her, lightly, on the lips.

She just breathed.

"You haven't shot me full of sedative yet," he said. "I take that as a good sign."

She said nothing. Her heart was hammering; time itself had slowed. This time their lips met in the middle and her mouth opened to his tongue, which plumbed her mouth, exploring. Her free hand went up to his face and into his soft, fine hair. His free hand pulled her close.

They kissed until Vehlen pulled back and started coughing.

"Do you need oxygen?" she asked, a little breathless herself.

"No!" he said, and quickly backed her up against the wall and kissed her again. Eventually he broke off to say, "I've been dyingto do this."

He might _really_ die. For that matter, they all might die. "Vehlen," she said warningly.

He put his forehead against hers. "Kendra."

"I don't think this is the time or the place."

"I know." He sighed and, as usual, that made him cough. "I'd just really like a chance to prove to you that I'm no caveman."

"I know you're not. I know that...that..." She grimaced and stopped, unable to say anything more specific, instinctively shying away from remembered pain. "But trying to prove something could be dangerous for you... it's probably not a good idea."

"A man needs to have _something_ to live for, you know."

"Cribbage?" she said, which made him laugh, which turned into wheezing – until the sound of the door opening made them both freeze in place again.

x x x

Footsteps entered. The door closed. There was breathing, and the sound of bed springs. Vehlen had his mouth open, his head tipped back, perhaps trying desperately not to cough or wheeze audibly. A scanner hummed. "It's clear," Tucker's familiar voice announced.

They both sighed in relief. Vehlen coughed and kept coughing. "Oxygen for you," she said. She fought her way out from behind the thick drapes and headed for her supplies.

Halfway there, there was a buzz at the door and she stopped cold. Tucker quickly helped Kendra duck back into place. But Vehlen's coughing could not be silenced, even though he'd covered his mouth with both hands and turned his face into the wall.

Tucker began to cough, loudly, to cover it, and T'Pol opened the door. "What is it?" she said with an impatience that sounded quite sincere.

"The other cabin is ready," a voice said.

Tucker coughed and coughed with admirable gusto.

"I'm not ready to dismiss my slave yet. I will call you when he can go."

The voice responded a little anxiously. "But the captain..."

"I must ensure that I and my quarters are presentable for him."

"He doesn't care about..."

T'Pol cut him off by saying, "I merely require half an hour," and the door slid shut.

There was silence, broken only by Vehlen's continuing choked coughs.

"I'm going to get a sore throat if I have to do much more of that," Tucker complained.

Kendra fought her way out of the drapes once again. "At least you can breathe," she said, and got the oxygen. Once again, they should have kept it with them. Would she never learn?

Of course, they also, clearly, shouldn't have started kissing.

She looked quickly at Tucker and T'Pol, but they didn't seem to have noticed that her world had tilted on its axis. Vehlen smiled and looked down at her with clear affection in his eyes as she fastened the mask on his face. He took a few deep breaths and relaxed perceptibly.

"Now what?" Kendra said.

"There are _seven _crewmembers aboard," T'Pol said. "One is someone they called an 'auditor' who only occasionally joins them on their runs. They seemed fairly wary of him."

"That's your agent," Vehlen said. "Most likely, anyway. Do you know which one he is?"

"He wasn't in the room."

"Once again, let me just tell you that you can't allow anyone time to react. Once this starts we have to move extremely quickly."

"The captain is the easy one," Tucker said. "He'll come to us."

"You can't be here_,"_ T'Pol reminded him.

"Yeah, I know," he said, and something dark flickered in his eyes. Kendra wondered if it was a flare-up of the same possessiveness he'd demonstrated before, or something else. He couldn't be enjoying even the pretense of being her slave. "But ___at least Vehlen and Kendra will _be here. And meanwhile I need to..." He sighed. "Try to stun all the rest of them."

Vehlen spoke up, his voice muffled by the mask. "Just as discussed earlier, Mr. Tucker. We will assist you as soon as it's clear here. Normally I would recommend that T'Pol keep the captain entertained until we can assume most of the crew is asleep. But quite apart from any personal objections you and she might have to that, I'm afraid Kendra and I are unlikely to be able to keep perfectly quiet that long. Or at least, I am unlikely to."

"Indeed," T'Pol said.

"We may be able to get another crewman to come to us by claiming the captain has fallen ill. He might even be the only other one on duty. And the off-duty crewmembers are likely to gather in the mess hall for recreation," Vehlen said. "If you can get them all huddled together, you can take them all out with one continuous blast."

Tucker looked pained. "Just how do you suggest I do that? As a slave, I'm not even supposed to address them."

"Where's the satchel?" Vehlen said. "There's a padd..." Kendra dug through it and produced it. Vehlen flushed a little green and thumbed through some menus. The unmistakable sound of women moaning in pleasure floated up from it.

Tucker peeked at it and turned pink. "Oh. Yeah, I suppose that might do the trick."

Kendra peered past him to see for herself. An Orion, a Reman, a Romulan, and a woman from some species she didn't recognize were industriously getting to know each other. Apparently, dreary pornography set to terrible music was another one of those constants across the galaxy, though perhaps she should give this one extra points for anatomical variety. "I take it the rest of the crew is male?"

Vehlen said, "I can't imagine any female wanting to serve under _this _captain. He's not even permitted to keep slaves; too many have died in his service."

"Great," Tucker said. "Just great." He looked at T'Pol. "Please don't even attempt to 'entertain' him."

"I believe that goes without saying," T'Pol said.

Tucker tried to give the padd back to Vehlen.

"You keep it," Vehlen said. "Just remember, it won't do us any good if you get too involved in it yourself."

Tucker scowled. "I'm bonded, remember?"

"Ah, the joys of a young bond," Vehlen said. "They're still _your _balls, you know."

Kendra thought that remark may have explained the stoniness in T'Pol's voice when she said, "Would it be at all possible for me to spend a few quiet moments in meditation?"

"Of course," Vehlen said. "Is this something you humans also wish to do?"

"Hell, no," Trip said. "Could you pull up those ship schematics you showed us before? I prefer to keep busy."

"Kendra?" Vehlen said, turning to her.

Like Trip, she'd welcome anything to keep her mind occupied. "I guess I'll take care of you," she said, and raised her scanner.

"Lucky me," he said lightly, and Tucker and T'Pol both looked up, perhaps noticing something different in the exchange.

But then they returned to their individual tasks – far apart from each other, Kendra noted.

x x x

T'Pol said, "Trip."

"I know," he said. "You guys ready?"

Kendra said "Good luck" to Tucker and gathered up the mask and canister she was determined to keep close at hand this time. She looked at Vehlen and he followed her behind the drapery. He put a possessive hand on her hip as soon as they were out of sight.

T'Pol tabbed the comm. "You may come show my slave to his cabin now."

Silence fell.

"Well, good luck, Mistress," Tucker said. His tone was ironic, bordering on resentful.

"Trip," T'Pol said, and Kendra wondered if Trip could hear the anguish in T'Pol's voice as plainly as _she _could.

She looked at Vehlen, who was clearly eavesdropping too, but he just shrugged and removed his hand from her hip so he could capture her hand and hold it.

She sighed and tried to relax. Having her hand held was definitely a good thing at a moment like this.

Then the door opened, and a voice said, "Come on, then."

"You may tell the captain I am ready for his visit," T'Pol said.

"I'm glad to hear it, blossom," another voice came.

The captain, already. Trip must just love this, Kendra thought. She straightened and squeezed Vehlen's hand almost convulsively. This was happening too fast.

But at least it would be over soon, one way or the other.

x x x

"Would you like to sit down?" T'Pol asked her guest.

"If you'll sit with me."

"Perhaps you'll take a glass of ale?"

"No, thank you. Sit down, blossom. Tell me what brings you to my ship. You have an unusual accent."

"So I am often told. Do you like it?"

"Of course, of course. Where are you from?"

Vehlen stiffened.

"My family led a rather itinerant existence when I was a child," T'Pol said. "I'm sure the details would bore you."

"No, not at all. I'd love to hear them."

"Well, I personally find them rather tedious," she said. "And since you clearly came here for sex, perhaps we could focus on that and dispense with the small talk."

Vulcans weren't very good at flirting, Kendra decided.

"In a hurry, are you?" the captain said.

T'Pol said, "If you would care to remove your clothing, we could begin."

"Thank you, but I'd prefer to stay dressed for now. But you -- by all means, go ahead."

"Then I would prefer not as well."

"But I insist."

Vehlen quietly held out his hand for the hypospray, and she handed it over to him.

"Do you bring a weapon to every tryst?" T'Pol said, and Kendra stared up at Vehlen in alarm. He had stilled in a way that reminded her of a coiled snake.

"Only when I expect there might be a certain lack of ... cooperative spirit. Clothes off _now,_ please, blossom."

There was the sound of her getting slowly off the bed, of a robe dropping to the floor. Kendra stared at Vehlen – just how long was he going to wait before he intervened? But he shook his head impatiently at her and went still again.

The man's breath hissed in and out. "Lovely. Quite lovely. I can see why you wouldn't want your slave staring at you all night. Bajoran, is he?"

"His mother was," T'Pol said. "I cannot vouch for his father. She served the needs of any number of men."

"How nice. Rather like you."

Silence.

"You know, we scanned you and your _slave,"_ he said. "And his readings were Human. Not something you come across every day, especially in someone who looks Bajoran. I'm sure our favorite auditor is seeking the answers to this conundrum with him even now. In the meantime, I don't see why I should lose my fun tonight. If you would kindly hold your hands out... That's it. Now if you would kindly move to the bed."

Dead silence.

The captain dropped any pretence of civility. "I _said..."_

"I won't."

"I have a weapon pointed at you."

"I would rather die." She sounded as if she meant it, Kendra thought, and bugged her eyes at Vehlen. What the hell was he waiting for?

"You don't have any choice. You will do as I say!"

"I won't!" she snarled.

The captain got off the bed, apparently intent on forcing the matter, and there was a grunt of pain. Vehlen launched himself out from under the drapes. By the time Kendra had fought her own way out, Vehlen was sitting on an unconscious man and T'Pol was lying on the floor, out cold, her hands bound together in front of her by a plastic tie.

"Is she okay?" Vehlen asked.

"He stunned her," Kendra said, after a quick scan.

"She managed to kick him pretty hard. I don't think he can be _Tal Shiar_." There was an awful crunch as with one swift move he crushed the vertebrae in the man's neck, and the unmistakable signs and smells of death immediately followed. Kendra looked up at him, thinking that this wasn't what they'd agreed upon. On the other hand, she didn't exactly mourn the guy's passing.

"I guess our plan isn't exactly working out very well, is it?" she said grimly.

"Can you bring her around?"

"I don't have any stimulants."

Vehlen took the captain's weapon, adjusted it to a fine beam, and sliced through the bindings around T'Pol's hands. "Just get her dressed, then." Grunting, he dragged the dead captain to the other side of the bed, behind the panel they'd brought in from the cargo container.

Kendra got the robe fastened around T'Pol again and tried waking her, even splashing a little water in her face, but she was unresponsive.

"You should stay here with her," Vehlen said.

"That's ridiculous! You're going to take this ship all by yourself?"

He scowled. "I'm trained for this; you're not. T'Pol's pretty little plan is shot to hell. If you come, you're going to have to do what I say without argument. Do you accept that?"

She hesitated for only a moment. "Yes."

"We have to take the bridge first." He gestured at the captain's corpse. "I gave him some of that sedative. Are there plenty more doses in there?"

She took the hypospray and checked. "Yes, plenty. What about Trip?"

"They're not going to do anything to damage their prize this early in the game."

"Do you really think we have any chance?"

"As long as we do it my way. Do you accept that?"

It was the second time he'd asked. She blinked, wondering if she should be more worried about his insistence, and nodded. At this point she desperately needed to follow _someone._

_**To be continued...**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning:** Some explicit, unpleasant violence in this chapter. Other warnings and disclaimers in Chapter One.

* * *

Taking the bridge was easier than Kendra expected. The young crewman on duty never even saw them before Vehlen's beam caught him and he crumpled to the deck. Before she could even check for his life signs, Vehlen crushed his neck and stashed his body in a compartment. Kendra felt a little sick, but swallowed her objections.

Vehlen called up internal sensors and found Tucker in a small room, fastened to a chair, his face bloody. He looked furious and scared and determined all at once. Another Romulan paced slowly in front of him, talking. "Still in the preliminaries, I see," Vehlen said. "I must say, your Mr. Tucker handles adversity fairly well."

"He's had a hell of a lot of it lately," Kendra said, wincing as the Romulan on the screen suddenly turned and delivered a hard slap across Tucker's face. "We have to stop this."

"Let me just see if they've transmitted anything official about all this yet," he said, and pulled up a screen. He listened to a few messages that apparently appeared routine. "Looks like we got lucky," he said, and went back to internal sensors, flipping through all the other views. Three crewmen were gathered in the mess hall, intently playing some kind of game. Another was in the engine room. "That's all seven. Let's go."

x x x

In the corridor outside the room where Tucker was being interrogated, Vehlen told Kendra to stand against the wall and buzzed the door.

"Why are you interrupting me?" the man inside said impatiently, using the comm.

"The captain says the Vulcan has important information about the other two fugitives," Vehlen said.

The door slid open. "What-?" the man began to say, but Vehlen shot him before he could get more out.

Gesturing for Kendra to follow, he quickly dragged the man into the room.

Tucker stared wildly at them. An eyebrow had split and his lip was cut and bleeding too. "Where's T'Pol? This guy said--"

"She's okay, Trip, she just got stunned, nothing else. She's in her quarters." Kendra dug out the scanner and quickly ran it over him. The last thing Tucker needed was more head trauma, but thankfully she saw no sign of anything serious.

"Put that thing away and cut me loose!"

Vehlen gave the Romulan's weapon to Kendra, who used it to carefully burn through Tucker's restraints. He leapt up, stretching and loosening his arms, and she handed him the weapon. "You're _sure _T'Pol's okay?" he said. "I know something happened, I could feel it." His voice rose. "Don't try to protect me!"

"Trip, she's _fine,_" Kendra assured him. "It was ... a little scary for a moment, that's all."

Vehlen had the unconscious Romulan's mouth open and had his scanner running carefully, then his fingers probing. "There it is," he said, but didn't stop. He grimaced and said, "And there's another." He sat back on frowned. "But does it have a kill switch?" He sighed and looked up at Kendra. "We'd better shoot this one full of sedative until I figure out what he's got on him. Doctor?"

She obliged with her hypospray. It was nice to feel at least slightly useful.

Vehlen patted the man down and discovered another device in his shoe. He also found a handful of the same ties that had been used to bind Tucker to the chair. He bound the man's hands behind him, tied his feet, then balled up his handkerchief and stuck it in the man's mouth so that it was effectively locked open, with a couple of ties around his head and lower jaw to keep everything in place.

"If he has any nasal congestion, that could kill him," Kendra warned.

Tucker said, "I'll be glad to do the honors if it doesn't."

"Did he say whether war has broken out yet?" Vehlen asked.

"He said they've already destroyed Coridan Prime. And _Columbia_ and half a dozen other ships." He swallowed. "Do you think he might have been lying?"

Vehlen shook his head and tried and failed to choke back a cough. "I doubt it." He turned to Kendra. "He could quite possibly blow a hole in this ship just by biting down the right way. I don't intend to let that happen." He double-checked the man's bindings, then stood up and checked Tucker's weapon. "This is set on kill," he told Tucker, before handing it back. "Do you have any problems with that?"

"None at all," Tucker said.

"You've already got your _Tal-Shiar_ agent," Kendra reminded Vehlen -- and Tucker. "The others are just crew. They're not military!"

Vehlen gave her an assessing look. "We don't know that. You should return to the cabin."

"I can still be useful," she said stubbornly.

"I won't ask you again if you can do what I say," Vehlen warned her. "I'll just stun you and let you wake up when it's all over." He turned to Tucker. "Unless they've moved in the last ten minutes, we've got three in the mess hall, one in the engine room. Let's take the larger group first."

Tucker nodded and soon they were working their way down the corridor.

The two men ran into the mess hall first, firing. Two men fell immediately. A third ran for another exit, but Tucker ran after him and tackled him hard, apparently losing his weapon in the process, for he was soon whaling on the man with both fists. The Romulan never had much of a chance and was soon limp, but Tucker didn't let up.

"Trip!" Kendra said, trying to stop the mindless carnage.

"Leave him be," Vehlen said. He had already checked the other bodies.

"But what about --"

"He needs to beat up _somebody_. I'd rather it be that guy than me. Come on. We still have the engine room."

"You don't understand."

"No, _you_ don't understand," Vehlen said. "They've threatened his mate, they've attacked his people. Leave him alone."

"We aren't like you. We don't believe in ..." She threw up her hands in frustration and pointed. "That!"

Vehlen scowled. "If this war lasts long enough, you'll see much worse than _that._ Now either shut up or go back to the cabin!"

She shut up.

x x x

The young man who was manning the engine room looked up from a piece of equipment when the hatch opened and quickly raised his hands in surrender.

"Are you the engineer?" Vehlen asked.

"Apprentice, sir."

"Do you have an auto-destruct function on this ship?"

His eyes widened even further. "I don't know, sir."

"Are you sure about that?" Vehlen put the weapon against his head.

"I never heard of one!" He was trembling.

"No equipment you were ever told to stay clear of?"

"Just the cloaking device, sir."

"You have a _cloak?_" Vehlen looked surprised -- perhaps even distressed.

"I'm told it's only rarely used, sir."

"I see." Vehlen sighed.

"Are you going to kill me?" the boy asked, clearly terrified.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Vehlen said gently, and the boy began to relax … which was when Vehlen shot him.

Kendra stared at him, appalled. She'd hoped he would change his tactics in the face of such youth.

"I told him I wouldn't hurt him," he said. "I never said I wouldn't kill him."

She turned away, feeling sick. "He was just a boy!"

"We already discussed this, Kendra."

She couldn't look at him.

"I started intelligence work when I was younger than him," Vehlen said. "Anyway, that should be it, though we should probably check crew quarters just in case. I think it's safe to assume Tucker's man has been taken care of. I want to ensure our prisoner is still secure, and then I need to go back to the bridge. You should get back to the cabin."

"I want to check on Trip first." It was hard to equate the Trip she thought she knew with the man they had left behind in the mess hall.

"Good, you can confirm that he finished the job. It should be safe enough. Just ... keep an eye out."

"You might need this," she said, and handed the oxygen canister over to him.

He took it and left.

There was not a hint of romance in their parting. But given what she'd just watched him do, that was just as well.

x x x

Kendra hurried back to the mess hall. The man Trip had beaten lay crumpled and most definitely dead, but the engineer had disappeared, along with his weapon, so she headed back to the cabin.

There she found Tucker sitting on the bed, spattered with drying Romulan blood as well as his own. He was holding the unconscious Vulcan tightly in his arms. "I can't wake her," he said. "How do you _know_ she's okay? I know something happened!"

Kendra scanned her. "Everything's normal, she just took a heavy stun. It's only been…" She checked her scanner and was shocked at how little time had passed. "Not very long at all. She had a good scare, that's all. We all did."

"Vulcans don't get scared," Trip said. His eyes had begun to glaze and he was rocking slightly, his bond mate clutched close. He didn't appear to have even noticed that his knuckles were bloody and raw.

Kendra took a quick, assessing look, double-checked the still-foreign settings on the hypospray, and pressed it firmly into his neck.

He flinched away too late. "What the hell?"

"Just a little something to take the edge off." His lids were already drooping, so she helped him lie down, still wrapped possessively around T'Pol, and watched him slip under. She scanned him, just to make sure she hadn't missed any important injuries. Then she dressed the wounds on his hands, relieved that he hadn't fractured any bones in what must have been a massive adrenaline rush. Technically, his physical injuries were minor.

As for mental injuries ... she wasn't so sure. She found another blanket from the closet and covered them both up. His training and experience should have prevented the kind of loss of control she'd witnessed, but for Trip this adventure had been one trauma piled on another, and she'd had no access to any of the pharmacopeia that might have helped him avoid the worst effects.

Hell, she wouldn't have minded a dose of something for herself, at this point. In Phlox's sickbay she would have had drugs designed to keep traumatic memories from becoming too destructive. Here ... well, the sedative should at least help lower his blood pressure. She didn't know what was available on this ship, but she was willing to bet that a culture this ruthless had little concern for post-traumatic stress.

She turned to the dead man in the corner. What were they to do with him now?

And what of the agent, the lone survivor? It was ironic that the one man who definitely _wasn't _a civilian had been the only crew member to survive the night.

"Doctor?"

T'Pol was blinking. "Everything's fine," Kendra said. "We took the ship."

"Trip appears to be injured and unconscious."

"They're minor injuries. He's just sleeping -- I sedated him."

T'Pol examined Trip again, as if to confirm what Kendra had told her. Then she turned her head back. "What is that smell?"

"The captain's body... we have some cleaning up to do."

"And Vehlen?"

"Probably on the bridge by now."

"Alone?" T'Pol said, sitting up abruptly. "In control of the ship?"

Kendra blinked. "You gave him a weapon," she said. "I assumed he had your trust."

"We had little choice but to trust him. That doesn't mean we should allow him to take control of this ship, without any of us there to monitor him."

Kendra felt a rush of irritation. "I don't know the first thing about how to control a ship, so I don't know what good I could do up there even if he is up there betraying us."

"You're the only positive reason he's helping us. His other motivations amount to rage and disgust with the Romulan leadership. In him, I fear those impulses could dissipate." T'Pol looked down at her robes in apparent confusion.

"We dressed you," Kendra explained.

"He didn't ... touch me?" She looked at the captain's corpse with distaste.

"No. Apparently you kicked him, and he shot you. That's what Vehlen said, anyway. I didn't see it for myself."

T'Pol looked over at the bed where Tucker lay gently snoring. "I think it would be best if you did not share the full details of that encounter with Commander Tucker."

Kendra took an extra blanket and draped it over the corpse. "He said he can't hold anything back in a mind meld. Wouldn't it come out eventually?"

"Now that he can talk, he may no longer welcome a mind meld. Trip hasn't yet developed the ability to partition off his memories. I have somewhat better technique, although I still have much to learn."

Kendra grimaced. "That gives you quite an advantage."

"At the moment I believe it to be a useful one. Commander Tucker has been having great difficulty in controlling his emotional reactions to certain ... recent events." T'Pol averted her eyes.

"Any man in his situation would be, T'Pol. And he knows something happened. Lying about it could be a very bad idea."

"I won't lie," T'Pol said. "I simply won't include unnecessary detail."

Kendra sighed, giving up the argument. For all she knew, T'Pol might be right. "Okay, I guess I'll go."

"How many prisoners do we have?" T'Pol said.

"One."

"Just one?"

"Just one." Her eyes went involuntarily to Tucker and she felt a twinge of misgiving. If T'Pol knew what he had done, how would she react? Would she be appalled? Would she feel she had to report him for conduct unbecoming?"

For that matter, how would Kendra's own weak acquiescence to the night's activities stand up to investigation?

"Maybe you should be glad you were unconscious," she said, and left.

x x x

The shoes Vehlen had bought from the tradesman for her before they got into that container were very soft and comfortable. They were also completely silent as she padded quietly up the narrow corridor to the bridge.

Perhaps he'd planned ahead, knowing their plan required stealth. If so, now it was being used against him.

She crept to the doorway and looked in to catch him slumped over his oxygen mask, his forehead resting in both hands. But then he turned quite deliberately and looked at her, as if he knew she was there. Which perhaps he did, with this bond -- which either meant Romulans were more telepathic than they thought they were, or more telepathic than he had cared to admit.

He quickly removed the mask. "Are you _spying_ on me?"

"Of course," she said, glad that the flush she could feel rising on her face probably wasn't visible. She lifted the scanner. Perhaps he would assume she meant just medically.

He snorted. "I have to admit, sitting here, the controls at my fingertips, a weapon in my hand...it occurred to me I could probably take you all down quite easily. But then what would I do with you?"

"You could kill us. You're pretty good at that."

His face darkened. "I did what had to be done."

She sighed. "Have we changed course?"

"Yes, we're now cloaked and heading toward an unpopulated corner of the Empire. I haven't seen any sign of pursuit yet, which is good. But someone needs to keep an eye on this console while I further examine our prisoner. Can you do that?"

She stared blankly at the alien console. "I don't think I could do that even on an Earth ship."

He frowned. "Where are your colleagues?"

"In the cabin. T'Pol just awoke. I sedated Tucker."

He grimaced. "Please consult with me before you do something like that again. We only have four people, and you are apparently of little use to ship operations. Don't they cross-train you ship's doctors at all?"

Kendra flushed. "Tucker needed rest."

"He can rest when we're safe," Vehlen said. "Until then, rest is a luxury." He reached for the comm and asked T'Pol to come to the bridge.

T'Pol quickly appeared and Vehlen gave her a full report. The Vulcan looked grim as he detailed the death toll, but she apparently saw little point in discussing it further.

He filled the Vulcan in on their course, and added that they were cloaked. "It looks like a state-of-the-art cloak," he said. "Which is unusual in a cargo vessel, and that concerns me. But it means we should be relatively undetectable as long as you maintain silent running. No scans, no transmissions. Keep an eye out for the energy readings I told you about -- I've programmed an alert. Call me if you see anything. It's possible they have a way to track us. We need to try to determine that before we lay in our final course."

T'Pol nodded and sat down.

"Come with me, doctor," Vehlen said.

x x x

Kendra followed. Why did he want her with him? So he could keep her from doing anything _else_ he felt worthy of rebuke? He took her to a small room off the main corridor, which turned out, when illuminated, to be a tiny, dusty sickbay with one sickbed.

Perhaps he hoped she'd stay here and keep out of the way.

He said, "I need you to prepare this room for our prisoner. It will be easier to remove the devices from his mouth with proper lighting and equipment."

Oh. She set to work, noticing some supplies that could come in useful for Vehlen's condition as well, including more oxygen. For the most part, the equipment was only subtly different from what she would have had on _Enterprise,_ though there was much less of it. They didn't have a medical imaging unit, but there was a scanner that looked as if it would perform more detailed scans than Vehlen's all-purpose model could.

"How do we get him here?" she said.

"Stretcher," Vehlen said, and lifted one he had found.

"I'm not sure you should be doing that much lifting."

"I'll need your help," he said, and left.

Their prisoner was still out cold. They rolled him onto the stretcher and took him back to the sickbay, which wasn't far. Vehlen's face had turned serious. "I'm thinking this can't be the first time they've interrogated prisoners on this ship," he said. "There's more to this operation than smuggling. Fabian knew exactly what he was doing putting us here."

Kendra scanned the prisoner. "He'll be out for awhile yet." She folded her arms. "So what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," Vehlen said. "It may mean they're keeping a closer eye on this ship, or less of one, because they'll assume their operative can handle the job." He cut through the man's bindings and secured him in the bed's restraints. "Here," he said, opening the man's mouth. He removed the wad of handkerchief he'd shoved in and showed her where a molar contained a false floor that could be punctured with just the right jaw motion. "Under that you are likely to find a fast-acting poison that will kill him instantly. It could conceivably kill you too, if it releases as a gas and you're too close to it."

"Great. What do you propose I do about it?"

"Pull the tooth. Make sure you're wearing a shield."

"Pulling a healthy tooth isn't as easy as you think. It could crack..."

"Cut it out, then. But before you go in, you should know about this other device..."

Kendra sighed and watched as Vehlen used a dental mirror to show her a spot up behind the last molar, high up on the gum, where a small device was attached.

"What is it?" she said.

"I'm not sure. Most likely a communication device. I need to know."

"You want me to remove it?"

"No. It could have a kill switch of some kind in it. I just want to know what it does, and whether it's transmitting anything."

"I don't know how to tell that. Maybe Trip or T'Pol could figure it out..." She tried to scan it more closely. "It doesn't even show up on this scan."

They were both silent for a moment, which might have been how they managed to hear the device buzz slightly.

_"Fvadt,"_ Vehlen said. "Do you have anything that amplifies sound?"

She fished an old-fashioned stethoscope out of a tray of medical tools and handed it to him. He put the ear buds in his ear and the end of it up into the man's mouth and listened. He looked like he was about to give up when he suddenly turned intent. Straining, Kendra could hear the slightest mosquito buzz coming from the man's mouth.

Vehlen frowned, then pulled the stethoscope out and put his mouth to the man's mouth, saying something the translator expressed as "Making progress, but I need more time."

Vehlen whipped the stethoscope back into place and waited, then removed it again and said, "Understood."

The much louder com on the wall buzzed and made Kendra jump. T'Pol's voice said, "T'Pol to Vehlen. I've detected coded transmissions to and from some point inside the ship."

"Yes, I know," Vehlen said, and sighed heavily, then coughed. "That would be the sickbay here. We have a problem. Come to a full stop, please."

Kendra stared at him. "Why?"

Vehlen coughed again. "Can you give him another dose of sedative without killing him?"

She checked the man's readings. "I think so."

"Then do it. And see if you can wake up Tucker. We need him."

"Do you see any drugs here that might be a safe stimulant for humans?"

"I'm not a doctor. I know how to kill humans, not how to treat them." He stalked to the other side of the room, coughing, and leaned against the other counter. "I don't know how I got myself into this."

Kendra stared at him, stricken.

He looked up, grey-faced, from his coughing and frowned at her. "I'm doing my best to help you, Kendra. I'm just not sure it will be good enough. Please, bring Tucker as quickly as you can."

_

* * *

_

To be continued… assuming that I remember to keep posting, anyway.


	16. Chapter 16

Warnings and disclaimers in Chapter One. There are definitely some (nonexplicit) adult themes in this chapter. I got a review on the last chapter -- thank you, kind reviewer! There are only two chapters on the way after this one, so we're getting close to the end now.

* * *

"Can you tell whether this device has a kill switch in it?" Vehlen demanded of Tucker, who stood swaying slightly in place. Kendra had dragged him from bed and helped him wash the blood off his face. She had hoped the cold water would help him throw off the remaining effects of her sedative. If nothing else, she was relieved not to have to look at that carnival of blood spatter on his face anymore.

"Where's T'Pol?" he'd demanded as soon as he was halfway conscious, so before taking him to sickbay she marched him to the bridge long enough to persuade him the Vulcan was fine. She'd hoped the walking would help, too, but he was obviously still struggling.

Tucker peered blearily into the prisoner's mouth, then insisted on trying a scan even though Kendra said it wouldn't work. "It's not showing me anything," he mumbled, and turned to Vehlen. "How the hell do you expect me to tell anything unless we can take it out and take it apart?"

"Okay, never mind," Vehlen said. "Can you rig up a device that will respond to various voice commands with various responses?"

Tucker blinked at him. "Yeah. Though that's really more Hoshi's kind of thing than mine."

"Hoshi?" Vehlen said, looking to Kendra.

Kendra just shook her head impatiently.

Tucker yawned. "Any chance of a cup of coffee? A shot of anything? I feel like I'm swimming underwater here."

"Sorry, Trip," Kendra said. "I've got nothing."

"Perhaps if you took a moment to contemplate your imminent capture, torture and death," Vehlen said. "I often find that helps to get the blood moving."

Tucker gave him a baleful glare. "Okay, I got it. A device that responds to specific voice inputs with specific voice responses. You come up with the message options, I can do the rest."

Vehlen said, "It also has to be small enough to fit in his mouth. I will program the different options when you have the mechanics worked out."

"You got any tools?" Tucker asked. "And some transponders or control chips I could start with?"

"Check the engine room," Vehlen said. "I'm sure they have some stores. If not, perhaps you could take apart one of those surveillance devices. But you need to do it quickly. They'll be checking in at least every couple of hours."

"Why are we doing this?" Kendra said.

"I want to launch this man into an escape pod with a device that will fool his handlers into thinking he's still interrogating the prisoners. It will follow our original course. With any luck it will also have a directional device in it, and, with even more luck, this ship won't. Then we take off in a different direction."

Tucker said, "That's not likely to fool them. An escape pod will only be capable of impulse, at most."

"I'll suggest that we're purposely delaying our arrival at Kalpurnia to buy more time for interrogation. All we need is enough time to get away before they come looking. That's the other thing we need you for. We need to get this ship up to maximum warp as soon as the escape pod is launched."

"What _is_ this ship's maximum warp?" Tucker said.

"I don't know," Vehlen said. "But I suspect it may be much higher than you would expect in a freighter."

Tucker raised his eyebrows. "_That_ might wake me up."

"Let us hope so," Vehlen said, and started coughing again. When Kendra had returned with Tucker he'd been wearing his oxygen mask and now he lifted it back in place again. He turned to Kendra. "Do you think, perhaps…?"

"Stop by the cabin and I'll give you a couple of hyposprays," she said.

x x x

Vehlen slumped down onto the bunk in the cabin, which was still rank with the smells of death. She scanned him, then administered the diuretic and the heart stimulant. "This will make you feel better, but you should probably try to get some rest soon."

"So should you," he said. "But not now and definitely not here." He wrinkled his nose.

"We need to do something with the bodies."

"They'll have a pretty big stasis unit for perishable cargo. We can put them in there. In the meantime, there's no reason we can't help ourselves to the crew quarters. Even at high warp, this voyage will take a few weeks." He got a gleam in his eye and stood up. "Come with me."

He moved down the narrow corridor to another door and punched in a fairly long code to get in the door. "This is the captain's cabin," he said. "If Tucker and T'Pol don't object, I'm sure we would find this room the most comfortable."

_We?_ Kendra looked around, frowning. While large and relatively luxurious, the cabin's décor was split fairly evenly between spaceships and pornography. "How'd you know his passcode?"

"I didn't. I used the ship's master code. Handy, that." He carefully put down the oxygen mask and tank and turned to her, placing his hands on her hips. "So, will you be my roommate?"

She looked up at him. For most of the night she had been telling herself that she would never, ever want to be touched by this man ever again. But all he had to do was put his hands on her and she went weak in the knees. "I doubt my colleagues would approve."

"They of all people should understand. Besides, you can tell them you're keeping an eye on me."

"_And _I suspect you'll want to have sex. That could kill you."

"If I'm dying anyway, I might as well die happy."

"I can't say I find the idea of a man dying on me in the middle of sex all that appealing."

He grimaced. "Then just _sleep_ with me. Just _be_ with me. We are bond mates. We are supposed to be together, if we can be. Don't you feel that?"

She looked down. Yes, she _felt _that, but her _head _was telling her something quite different. "After what I saw today ... how am I supposed to be sure you won't just murder me in my sleep?"

His jaw clenched. Suddenly he pushed her up against the bulkhead and put both his hands firmly around her neck, though not tight enough to choke. "I could break your neck with one jerk of my hand right _now,_ never mind when you're asleep. But I won't. I will never harm you. You're my bond mate. Do you understand?"

"Let me go!" She twisted, trying to get loose, but he just pushed up against her harder, trapping her in place.

"Do you _understand?_"

"No!" she yelled back at him, but already the electricity between them had changed from anger to something quite different.

"I think you do," he said, and pressed into her even more firmly.

"This is sick!" But she was conscious that her protest sounded weak. Her body was responding quite independently of any objective opinions she might have held on the matter.

Keeping her trapped, he dipped his head and started kissing her jaw line. One of the hands on her neck rose up to her hair and used it to tug her neck back, expose more of her it to his kisses. "You like this," he breathed into her neck.

Oh, God. She _did_ like it. She was incredibly turned on. She _was _sick. Sick and crazy and ... also ... also incredibly irresponsible. "Vehlen," she muttered, even as he opened her robe and trailed kisses down her chest.

"Mmm?" he mumbled.

"We don't have time for this."

"It won't take very long."

"It's not a good idea right now."

"It's an excellent idea. Shush."

So she shushed.

x x x

An hour and a half later they laid the unconscious interrogator in an escape pod that could normally hold the entire crew in case of a warp breach or some other disaster. Kendra set up an extremely slow sedative drip in the hope of keeping him unconscious but alive for as long as possible. Tucker had installed a transponder in his mouth, which had already activated once to respond to something as they were working, and Vehlen also replaced the device he'd found in the man's shoes, which he suspected was a locational beacon. He programmed the coordinates for Kalpurnia into the pod, and they launched it.

They then jumped into warp on a fairly labyrinthine course that would eventually lead them to Vulcan space while skirting known trade routes.

Kendra followed Vehlen to engineering, where Trip was running around checking things out. He looked awake now. Indeed, he was practically bouncing on his toes. Kendra watched him and marveled. Trip was undoubtedly an unusually resilient man -- that had become clear from reading his medical file -- but now she began to wonder whether proximity to warp reactors could possibly have a positive effect on brain chemistry.

"How fast?" Vehlen asked.

"Warp four point six," Trip said. "Very perky. I could probably nudge a little more out of her, but I'm worried about handling any problems when I can't really read these screens. You want to stay down here and translate for me?"

"If it becomes necessary," Vehlen said. "Most birds of prey cruise at warp four point five. We'll soon know if they are pursuing us. You set up a dispersal pattern for the warp trail?"

Trip smirked "Yep." He patted a cylinder that sat off to the side of the engine. "And I'm delighted to see we got ourselves a working cloaking device in the bargain."

Vehlen said nothing, but Kendra could tell he was displeased.

"What's the matter?" Kendra said to him.

He grimaced. "That's a bit more help for your people than I had bargained on."

Tucker and Kendra exchanged concerned glances. Trip said, "Is _that_ why we made this crazy detour onto another ship? Because you didn't want us to get our hands on your cloaking device?"

"No, Mr. Tucker," Vehlen said. "We needed to do that anyway. But I admit, I didn't expect any freighter to have a cloak on it. This has the potential to change the balance of power between our two peoples a great deal more than I was hoping."

Kendra frowned. "You already said Earth is no threat."

"You're no threat as you are _now._ Don't you realize how much power cloaking technology places in the hands of the few? How do you think we got into this situation in the first place? This kind of technology could destroy your more enlightened political traditions -- and those are precisely what keep the rest of the galaxy safe from Human expansion. It's not as if your species is totally lacking the imperial instinct -- your own history must tell you that."

"Yeah, well," Tucker said. "Being conquered by the Romulan Empire could do some pretty bad things to our political traditions, too."

"Does this affect your willingness to help us?" Kendra asked Vehlen.

"I said that I'd help you get back home and I will still do that," Vehlen said, looking very seriously at her. "You have my word on that."

She glanced at Tucker. Vehlen's sincere dark eyes aside, somehow that answer had seemed a bit ... legalistic.

x x x

The next day passed without incident. They took turns sleeping, stowing dead bodies, and manning the bridge and the engine room. T'Pol had readily agreed that she wanted nothing to do with the captain's quarters. They would smell like the man, she said, exchanging a look with Tucker that made Kendra wonder if she had actually kept her resolution.

Kendra had been relieved to see that they had stayed together in the passenger cabin they'd started with, though she supposed they might have simply been too tired to move.

"Did T'Pol ask you not to tell Trip what happened with the captain?" Kendra asked Vehlen, when they finally had some time together again. They were in the captain's quarters, trying to remove as many traces of the man they could.

He stopped what he was doing to look at her in puzzlement. "Is that a joke?"

"No."

"I didn't think Vulcans believed in lying ... certainly not enough to ask someone else to _help_ them lie."

"She didn't want Trip to get any more upset than he already was."

"He doesn't look particularly upset to me."

Kendra smiled. It was true, that morning Trip had possessed a certain unmistakably cheerful glow.

"It's amazing, the recuperative effects that getting laid can have on a man," Vehlen said. He smiled brilliantly at her.

"I'm still a little worried that it could kill you."

"We already had this discussion," Vehlen said. "I'm sorry, Kendra, but cribbage just doesn't cut it. Even if did, we left the game on my ship."

"Look. You want to have sex, fine. _I'm _not complaining. Just don't blame me if you drop dead."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." She stared at him, her hands on her hips, suddenly feeling supremely awkward and wondering just how to proceed.

But she needn't have worried. He pretty much took it from there.

x x x

Days passed. No Romulan war birds appeared. Trip and T'Pol seemed content to stay together. And Kendra -- although she had made a token pretense of adopting the other passenger quarters -- shared the captain's quarters with Vehlen. They didn't actually get much time together, thanks to the rotations they had to cover, but when they did meet there they usually had sex -- cautiously at first, and eventually with more confidence.

Sex outside of _ponvau_ was considerably less stressful for Vehlen than she had feared. He didn't have the same staying power as he had in his fever, either, but this merely brought him closer to the human norm. He certainly still appeared to enjoy himself.

As she did. Vehlen seemed to know what would turn her on better than she knew herself. It wasn't always submissive on her part, but it often was, or at least it often started out that way. It bothered her that she enjoyed that aspect of their coupling so much, but not enough to stop her from craving more.

One night after a particularly stimulating experience with one of the dead captain's faintly appalling fastening devices, she said, "I wish I knew why I enjoy the whole being-ravished thing so much. Is it something to do with the bond? Is it the caveman/cavewoman thing?"

He looked at her with a superior little smile. "I suspected from the beginning that your tastes would run this way."

She wasn't sure whether she was more puzzled or offended. "What the hell would make you think that?"

"You married a tall, handsome, highly successful man from another country, who spoke another language, from quite a different culture and class, and you went there to live as he lived and do what he did. In other words, my dear, you formed a classic submissive union with an alpha male."

She sat up, offended. "That's ridiculous! Cuba just happened to have the best research facility for tropical diseases on the planet. And everyone on the planet speaks English, in conducting science and medicine anyway, so _that _hardly matters. And _of course_ we lived there. Jamaica would have been a ridiculously long commute."

"Did you ever ask him to even consider living in your home country?"

She frowned. "No. He was really into the whole being-Cuban thing."

"I rest my case."

"Just because I was attracted to his passion doesn't mean I don't have a will of my own!"

"Believe me, darling, I know you have a will of your own." He smiled. "You just really enjoy putting it away for awhile in exchange for incredibly hot sex."

She sighed. "Well, you're right about that. I think you may have spoiled me for anybody else." She put a hand on his thigh. "So we'll just have to find a way to keep you healthy."

His return smile was pained. "I wouldn't count on that."

Technically, he was doing better with regular oxygen and medication. But Kendra was also getting better with the Romulan medical scanner, and she understood the essential problem now -- at least one of Vehlen's heart valves was allowing a significant amount of oxygenated blood to leak back into the chamber instead of pumping it out into the body that needed it. And that was just what she could see. The configuration of the Romulan heart was more complex than the human heart, with more valves and more chambers, some in places she couldn't even scan. It didn't help that its normal rate was so much higher than a human's, or the pressure so high. It was no wonder surgery was more challenging than on humans. And because his heart was so much less efficient, his lungs were getting punky, his kidneys were dangerously overworked, and she was worried about his susceptibility to infection. Fundamentally, his prognosis hadn't changed.

"Have you ever heard of any Romulan doctors trying heart surgery using stasis fields?" she asked him.

"No. Why?"

"It's common in certain human heart procedures. Basically, you stop the heart, put it into stasis, do what you need to do, then start everything up again. It avoids excessive bleeding and gives you more time to get complex surgery done."

"Sounds interesting," he said, although he didn't, actually, sound very interested.

"On Earth, or on Vulcan, we could find a surgeon willing to try it for you. I know people..."

"I wouldn't survive two days on Vulcan," he said. "There are too many Romulan operatives in position there. And on Earth I'm sure Starfleet would have far more immediate priorities than my health." He grimaced.

She sat up. "If you're useful to them, they'll want to keep you alive."

"Kendra, my darling, I don't mind being useful to _you,"_ he said. "But don't assume that I extend that desire to Starfleet."

"But I _am_ Starfleet. We all are."

"I realize that you are all Starfleet officers, and I realize that helping you helps Starfleet, but my focus is simply on getting you safely back home." He sighed, and coughed. "I have my limits."

"But once we're home..."

"Dear one." He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. "This has been a wonderful little interlude, but I have no future. I've made my peace with that. When the time comes, you're going to have to let me go. For now, let's not waste any of our remaining time together."

She swallowed. "You're _my_ mate too, Vehlen. You can't just quit on me."

He smiled tiredly and pulled her into his arms. "Shush, darling," he said. "Believe me, right now I'm hanging on as hard as I can."

x x x

Kendra never could get the hang of the Romulan bridge consoles, but she made herself useful on the ship in other ways: she was the chief cook and bottle washer, and kept the place clean.

"How's the plomeek broth?" she asked T'Pol each morning. Tucker and T'Pol usually ate at least two meals together, while Vehlen manned the bridge. Kendra's first great success was the morning when T'Pol said, "It is satisfactory" instead of "It is a bit salty" or "Did you add pepper to this?"

Plomeek was a staple of Romulan food, although judging from what they had found in stasis, the Romulans also liked to pickle it in spicy-hot brine reminiscent of Korean kim chee, and were just as likely to use it as a condiment as they were to treat it as a staple. Tucker loved the hot stuff, declaring it the best use of plomeek he had ever tasted, but T'Pol wouldn't go near it. "The smell is disagreeable," she said. She frowned at Tucker. "It is beginning to affect your body odor."

Tucker stopped the spoon on its way to his mouth. "What?"

"You are much more pungent lately."

"Gee, thanks." He dropped the spoon on his plate and sighed. "So I guess you expect me to take it off the menu?"

"No. A _hint _of it in your body odor is tolerable. However, a spoonful of it near my nose is not. Should we ever have a private kitchen together, do not think that I will allow any of this substance into my stasis unit."

He looked amused. "_Your _stasis unit? What about garlic? Onions? Hot peppers? Those would all be important in any Tucker kitchen."

T'Pol lifted an eyebrow. "In their uncut state, I can tolerate those items. Once cut, they must be consumed expeditiously."

"Then you can tolerate those in my body odor too?" Tucker said, with a sidelong look at Kendra.

"Of course, as well as the inevitable traces of the copious meat and dairy products you consume -- if I could not, we could never have begun a relationship in the first place."

Trip shook his head, smiling. He continued eating for awhile, darting amused and then more serious glances at T'Pol as she sedately sipped her soup. Eventually, he shook himself out of whatever reverie he was in and said, "So, Kendra, guess what happens today, God willin' and the crick don't rise?"

T'Pol raised her head in obvious puzzlement at the expression.

Kendra said, "What?"

"We leave known Romulan space."

"We do?" Instead of relief, her first thought was: _Does Vehlen know?_ But he must.

"This far out, especially in war time, that mere fact alone provides minimal assurance of safety," T'Pol said.

"But it's still progress," Trip said, and grinned. "Only one week more and we'll be crossing Andorian territory. A few days beyond that and we'll be close to Vulcan. Practically home. I call that pretty exciting."

Kendra nodded and smiled stiffly.

"What's the matter?" Trip asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I guess I just can't believe this could all be over so soon."

_**To be continued...**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimers and Warnings in Chapter One.**

**Author's Note:** This is the second to last chapter, but they aren't out of this thing yet. I haven't had many reviews here on this, but I very much appreciate the ones I've gotten. You _are _allowed to tell me you hate it, by the way. Chances are I've heard it before, and chances are your objections are reasonable – even if I don't agree with them evil grin.

* * *

"You appear to be preoccupied," T'Pol said later that night. She and Kendra were cleaning up after dinner. Vehlen had presumably gone off to sleep, though Kendra hoped he would still be awake when she got there -- he probably would be. Romulans, like Vulcans, apparently didn't need much sleep, though he certainly did need to rest, especially in recent days. Tucker had the bridge shift.

"I guess I'm worried about what happens when we get home," she said.

"What specifically concerns you?"

Kendra purposely chose the lesser of her worries. "Well, for one thing, I can't imagine Starfleet approving of what we did to the crew of this ship."

T'Pol frowned. "You fear that you and Mr. Tucker may face disciplinary charges?"

"We participated in the murder of a civilian crew."

"_You _didn't kill anyone."

"Neither did I prevent anyone from killing anyone. And that IV I set up -- that wasn't exactly standard medical procedure."

"It served the greater goal of escaping with valuable information about the enemy."

Kendra shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But aren't you a little worried about what they might do to Trip? The body is right there in stasis. It's not pretty."

T'Pol had seen the body, but she hadn't asked for any report from Kendra. Trip's injured knuckles were a kind of testimony in their own right, of course. T'Pol's voice turned careful. "I am somewhat concerned, but I also feel there were a great many extenuating circumstances involved. Hopefully Starfleet will agree."

"They could still drum us out of the service. Reduce us in rank. Put us in prison..."

T'Pol looked down at the counter she was cleaning. "In a time of war, it would be extremely illogical to lose Commander Tucker's talents. Or yours. And I believe it _was _reasonable for us to make decisions on a wartime basis." She paused. "I have seen Starfleet excuse ethically questionable decisions and behaviors in the past, under similar conditions. My Vulcan superiors as well. Indeed, I am far from certain that my original decision to attempt to spare the lives of the crew was the correct one."

That surprised Kendra. "Then you're really okay with how it played out?"

"Once a battle has been joined, logic and ethics often become secondary, even for Vulcans. That is one of the reasons we seek to avoid war if at all possible. But few of us are true pacifists. Many are quite willing to defend themselves and their interests." She straightened the robe she was wearing and somehow managed to look much older. "I will be surprised if Starfleet imposes any significant consequences for what happened here."

Kendra hoped she was right. It would be a relief, if also a little depressing: Did this mean they were also Romulans at heart, just less upfront about it? "So... You and Trip are okay?"

The Vulcan stared at some point far beyond the galley cabinets. "I believe so. He appears content with the status quo for now."

"Did you tell him what happened?"

T'Pol nodded. "I ultimately deemed it best. He was quite insistent that something had happened."

"That's good," Kendra said. "Then you really are fine."

T'Pol gave her a serious look. "I do not know his intentions beyond the duration of this voyage." She swallowed. "You and Vehlen appear to have reached a certain level of... accommodation."

Kendra flushed. "Yes."

"And after we return?"

"He's made it fairly clear he doesn't actually want to go to Earth."

"That wouldbe quite a departure from the Romulan way."

"I don't know how to stop him if he ... chooses to do something about that. I mean, short of pulling all his molars in case they have poison in them. It's not like I can sedate him for the duration. In his condition, that would kill him, too."

"Trip has expressed some concern that he may try to sabotage the cloaking device."

Kendra chewed her lip. "I think that's a reasonable fear, especially once he thinks we're safe."

"Do you have any recommendation for how we should prevent that?"

She shook her head; she hadn't been able to come up with any ideas on her own that didn't involve literally holding Vehlen prisoner. "No." She sighed. "I think maybe I'm going to have to leave that up to you two."

T'Pol nodded. "You understand that we may indeed need to act."

Kendra nodded unhappily. "I understand. Just --"

"What?"

"Please don't hurt him if you can avoid it."

"Of course not," T'Pol said.

Of course not. T'Pol was so civilized. Kendra suspected that Vehlen would have had no such compunction himself.

x x x

"So we're not in Romulan space anymore," Kendra said, greeting Vehlen when she entered their cabin.

He was sitting up in bed with an oxygen mask on and a padd in his hands, which he promptly put down. He took the mask off. "I know. Though you can never be certain of borders with a war on."

"It doesn't bother you at all?"

"No. It means we're closer to getting you home." He was wheezing, she noticed, even at rest.

"But--"

"Kendra, a bird of prey could still sweep down on us at any moment. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

She went to get the scanner. "You're not feeling so well, are you?"

"No," he agreed.

"Go on, you need oxygen," she said, and he put the mask back on.

The scans didn't look good. "Tired?" she said.

He nodded.

She sighed and ran her hand down his leg to his ankle.

"They're quite swollen today," he said.

"Yes," she said, and tried to smile. "We'll up your dosage of the diuretic. That might help. I think you should keep the oxygen on tonight."

He didn't argue. She went to get ready for bed. She washed her face and brushed her teeth and wished she'd realized, the last time they'd made love, that it was probably the last time.

He was looking at the padd again when she returned to the bed.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

"Not reading, looking. I have pictures of my children. May I show you?"

"Of course," she said, surprised.

"And perhaps you could tell me about yours," he said.

She took a deep breath. She kept her memories of Hector and Gabriela walled off deep in her heart. "I'd like that."

And so they spent the rest of the evening looking at his pictures and reminiscing about their lost children and their past lives, until he dozed off, and she turned out the light.

x x x

Vehlen moved increasingly slowly over the next few days, until one morning he had to lean on her just to get to the mess hall. Increasing the diuretic had put more pressure on his kidneys and she'd had to back off. His ankles and lower legs were always swollen now. The oxygen mask stayed on all the time.

Tucker and T'Pol divvied up his shifts between them without anyone ever actually coming out and saying that Vehlen couldn't cover his; the first time anyone actually talked directly about what was happening was one night when Trip said, "How are you holding up?"

Kendra said, "I'm okay. How are _you_ doing?"

"Fine," he said, as if surprised that she would ask.

"You and T'Pol are doing okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." He smiled as if he meant it.

"So... all those issues you were having before ... they're all resolved?"

"_All _our issues resolved?" He snorted. "_That'll_ never happen." He went fishing in the jar of cookies she'd found in stasis and held one up triumphantly. "You're the one who's bunked up with a Romulan spy. At least T'Pol and I are on the same side." Trip chewed his cookie and gave her an assessing look. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No. He's deteriorating quickly."

"I'm sorry, Kendra. I'm not really sure why I should be, but I am."

"I know. Thanks."

x x x

Kendra began to serve Trip and T'Pol dinner on the bridge; otherwise they'd hardly get any time together. That was how she happened to be there the next day when they passed out of Andorian space and into Vulcan space.

"I'd like to know where everybody is," Tucker said to T'Pol. "Normally you'd expect this zone to be crawling with patrols from both sides."

They'd already decided to stay cloaked even in friendly territory; the chance to obtain a Romulan cloaking device would be extremely tempting to the Andorians and possibly to the Vulcans, too.

"Perhaps they each have more important concerns right now," T'Pol said.

"That's a depressing thought," Tucker said.

x x x

Vehlen started to take meals in their quarters because he couldn't manage the short walk to the mess hall. Kendra couldn't help remembering what the Romulan doctor had said: once he was bedridden, death would come quickly. Sometimes she wondered if Vehlen had somehow figured out how to time this exactly right to avoid being alive when they got back to Earth. At night she slept in a curl on the bed next to him, while he dozed sitting up, or just sat there, his breath rasping, one hand on her shoulder.

Maybe it was the bond, but she had become so accustomed to that simple contact that she couldn't imagine sleeping alone anymore, even as it became increasingly evident that she would soon have to.

The morning came when his breathing was even more labored. She scanned him and said, "You're going to need some breathing assistance, Vehlen. They have the equipment in their sickbay. We can either move you there, or I can see if Trip can get it moved in here."

"No," he said. "None of that."

"I'm sorry, but you'll die without it."

"Then I'll die."

"There's no reason for that yet!"

"Kendra, you need to let me go." He squeezed her hand. "You'll be okay."

"Look, I didn't ask for this bond," she said. "I already lost one family. You owe it to me to try. _Please,_ Vehlen."

"No," he said. "I'm sorry, I can't. You know that. You always knew that." He caressed the side of her face. "You'll be all right."

She fought down a feeling of panic. As a doctor, she'd seen this dynamic often enough. She'd sometimes boggled at the refusal of families to accept the inevitable, to selfishly demand the dying person struggle on in increasing discomfort just for their sakes. But then, she'd never had to go through this herself. With Hector and Gabriela and Ruben, there had been no dying -- just sudden, total obliteration.

He removed his mask. "You haven't kissed me good morning."

So she did. Soft and sweet and short; he couldn't do without oxygen for long.

"Thank you," he said, taking her hand. "Thank you for everything. I'm so glad I didn't have to do this alone. I hope you won't either, when it's your time."

She burst into tears. She wasn't ready for any goodbyes. They hadn't even finished saying hello.

"Shush, darling," he said, and patted her back while she sobbed. "You'll be okay. You're tougher than you think you are." He put the mask back on. "Could you get me some breakfast?"

"You're hungry?" He hadn't had much of an appetite lately.

"Yes." He smiled at her. "Bring me something sweet."

So she went and started loading a tray, when she suddenly felt such a terrible foreboding that she ran back to their cabin without it.

He was dead.

x x x

Kendra awoke with a gasp.

"Doctor?" T'Pol looked over from where she had been sitting, apparently in meditation.

Kendra blinked, slowly realizing that she was lying in Trip and T'Pol's bed, in their cabin. The whole room smelled of the two of them, with a faint suggestion of that spicy plomeek. So T'Pol had been right about that. "Vehlen?" she asked.

"I've laid him out in his quarters for now," T'Pol said. "It was indeed a fast-acting poison, as you suggested. In a molar."

Kendra clenched her jaw. The signs of poisoning had been unmistakable. Her fury and outrage and grief had been loud enough to bring Tucker and T'Pol running.

"You were quite hysterical," T'Pol said in that implacable way of hers. "We decided that sedation would be best."

Kendra looked up at the ceiling. She still felt sedated.

T'Pol said, "We'll be passing by Vulcan in the morning. Trip prefers that we head straight on to Earth. He fears that Romulan agents on Vulcan might try to interfere with our ability to access the technology aboard this ship. I fear it's equally likely the High Council itself might attempt to interfere. We can't be sure how an outbreak of war might have affected our relations."

Kendra sat up. She felt logy. "What time is it?"

"Nineteen hundred. Are you hungry?"

Kendra nodded. She felt profoundly hollow inside, though she wasn't sure it was hunger or something else. But according to the clock, it ought to be hunger. "I guess you won't have to worry about him sabotaging anything now."

T'Pol lifted an eyebrow. "I grieve with thee," she said.

Kendra clamped her mouth tightly over a sob and nodded, blinking and swallowing.

"Perhaps I should bring you some food?"

"No, I'll go," Kendra said.

"May I accompany you?" T'Pol said.

Kendra wanted to say no, but then she realized that T'Pol was probably concerned she might do something rash. She _had_ been hysterical, right up there with any of Great Grandmama's graveside histrionics. She was just so _furious_ at him for cutting out like that. She had screamed her shock and outrage at losing Vehlen, and at all her other losses, too. She hadn't known she had it in her to shriek with such abandon; even while it was happening a part of her had sat apart from it all and thought, _what the hell is the matter with you?_

"Thank you," she said quietly now. "I'd appreciate the company. And then I'd like to sit with him for awhile."

"Of course," T'Pol said.

x x x

Three days later, still a couple of days out from Earth, they encountered their first Starfleet vessel, a small scout ship. When the _Resolve _came into communications range, Tucker hailed them and they began the delicate dance of proving they were each who they said they were, and then he dropped the cloak.

Soon a small party of Starfleet officers came aboard with their first news of the war. In addition to Coridan, the Romulans had destroyed two Earth colonies and a great number of ships, which indeed included _Columbia. __Enterprise _was currently escorting a refugee convoy and unfortunately nowhere nearby. Young Captain Maarten, whose pips suggested he was actually a lieutenant, didn't come right out and say it, but Kendra got the impression the war wasn't going well.

Kendra noted this without any of the sense of urgency that she knew it ought to have generated in her. She was still wrapped in a cocoon of numbness, and the discussions going on in front of her had no more immediacy for her than an old movie on a video screen.

Trip handed over the energy signatures that would help Starfleet detect cloaked ships and those were hurriedly given to the _Resolve's _communications officer to be encoded and sent to Starfleet Command.

"_And_ you managed to bring us back a working cloaking device," Captain Maarten said. "That's quite a coup."

Trip nodded. "I hope so. I haven't had a chance to look at it while it's been in operation. There's a good chance it's booby-trapped. The Romulans are pretty paranoid about protecting their technology."

Maarten grimaced. "That's not all they're careful about protecting. Are you saying you've actually seen them? Up close and in person?"

They all glanced at each other. They had already discussed this among themselves. The bodies of the crew and Vehlen were locked in stasis, ready for Starfleet to examine. Kendra hoped they would release Vehlen's to her eventually but would not be surprised if it never happened. "We have indeed seen them," T'Pol said. "However, we must wait until we have authorization from Starfleet to discuss that."

Maarten looked annoyed. "Is there something particularly scary and horrifying about them, that I might want to pee my pants or something just from hearing about it?"

T'Pol said, "I intend to follow proper debriefing procedures, Captain."

Maarten sighed. "Then I guess we'd better head for Jupiter station, post haste."

"Indeed," T'Pol said.

"I'd go ahead and use the cloak again if I were you," Maarten said. "We've had attacks inside the system, too. And if they're really that careful about protecting their technology..."

"We'll be glad to," Tucker said. "Just please don't let Starfleet start shooting at us."

"Oh don't worry, we'll keep you company on your way home. You've got me hooked on your little mystery now. Do you want my medic to check you out before you go? No offense, but you guys look a little the worse for wear."

Kendra looked anew at her crewmates. Tucker hadn't been able to shave since his stint as a Bajoran and had a scraggly beard and mustache, and T'Pol's hair had also gotten shaggy. Their clothing was Romulan, patched together from what they had found in Vehlen's closet. They were each a little thinner, a little more fatigued, though Kendra felt they were doing pretty well, considering what they had been through and the watch hours they had been keeping recently. Trip especially struck her as calm and content; T'Pol still seemed a little tense. Perhaps she still didn't know what would happen between her and Trip when this voyage was over.

As for herself -- well, she hadn't looked in a mirror since Vehlen died. It had taken all her resolve simply to get out of bed that morning and make the plomeek broth.

"We are significantly undermanned," T'Pol said. "If you have a helmsman you could spare, that would be more helpful. And perhaps some uniforms for us?"

"And a razor?" Trip said. He glanced uncomfortably at Kendra. "And no offense, doc, but maybe some food that isn't Romulan?"

Maarten smiled. "No problem. You want an engineer, too? I'm sure my chief would like a look at your propulsion system."

Tucker said, "I wouldn't turn down the help, but I was serious when I said things could be booby-trapped. We sure as hell didn't come all this way just to get blown up now -- so whoever it is has to understand there will be absolutely no messing around -- not until we have a bomb squad on board."

T'Pol turned to Kendra. "Doctor, would you perhaps be more comfortable on the _Resolve_?"

Kendra replied with an emphatic "No!"

Maarten eyed her curiously.

But of course this was only the beginning of _that._

x x x

Two days later they arrived at Jupiter Station. A team from Starfleet Intelligence came aboard to begin debriefing them and examining their prize. Kendra said little unless asked; it was clear that the early priorities were on obtaining as much tactical information as possible. It was only when Lieutenant Ikeda asked why a former Romulan intelligence agent had been willing to do so much to help them that T'Pol turned to Kendra. "Doctor, perhaps you would care to explain?"

She had rehearsed this in her own mind, but even so she could feel her face go hot with embarrassment as she described, as briefly as possible, how a mating bond had formed with their former captor. She could see the other officers in the room eyeing each other and knew it must sound bizarre and disturbing. No doubt referrals to Starfleet Medical for intensive counseling were already being written in their heads.

Ikeda turned to T'Pol and Trip. "Do you believe the doctor's perceptions of a 'mating bond' to be accurate?"

"Absolutely," Trip said.

"I have no doubt," T'Pol said.

However, neither explained why they were so certain.

Ikeda exchanged a quick glance with her superior, a Commander Garcia, and the subject was dropped for now. It was agreed that T'Pol would talk the Commander through the bridge, while Tucker led a tour of engineering. Ikeda stuck to Kendra. She asked to see the bodies in stasis.

Kendra swallowed and obliged her, leading the woman to the large stasis unit that held perishable cargo, which in this case included seven Romulan corpses. They had each been washed and wrapped before storage. Ikeda looked at each one, raising her eyebrows at the crewman Trip had beaten to death. "What happened here?" she said.

"He resisted."

Ikeda stared at her for a moment but didn't inquire further; she just moved on.

T'Pol had laid out Vehlen's body with care: his eyes were shut, he wore clean robes and his hands were folded neatly on his chest. Kendra looked down at him and thought, as she had before, that a corpse was such a cruel parody of life. How could anything so thoroughly retain the outward form and yet suggest none of its illuminating spark?

"So they are like Vulcans?" Ikeda said.

"Genetically, they appear to be virtually identical." Kendra said. "Not that I had the equipment for careful comparisons. You see the forehead ridges, though I'm told told there are occasionally Romulans who lack them." She sighed. "Culturally, they are quite distinct."

"How so?"

"As T'Pol said, they do not appear to repress their emotions any more than we humans do. They practice slavery. They value strength and encourage the survival of the fittest. They are quite ruthless." She recited her findings, trying not to think about Vehlen as she did so, trying to maintain an objective tone.

Ikeda apparently wasn't satisfied with this. "And this mating bond? What did it feel like?"

Kendra blinked and stared down at the body of her bond mate. "I don't really know how to describe it. It was... relaxing."

_"Relaxing?" _

"Imagine never having to wonder whether a man really _wants _you," she said. "Instead, it's hard-wired into both of you. I suppose if he were a really awful person that could have been kind of horrifying, but he wasn't..." She trailed off, suddenly confused. Vehlen _had _been an awful person, or at least she'd definitely thought so at first.

"And you feel that way even though he enslaved you? _Raped _you?"

Kendra fought to remain calm, to not feel attacked. "He had this whole ethical construct in his mind about what it meant to be a _good _slave owner. And the rape was just part of his mating fever. It was rape or die. Once I understood that, I couldn't honestly blame him too much for it. Well, I did, but after awhile it's like it just didn't really matter that much."

Ikeda looked appalled. "So you really just had no choice in the matter."

"No, that's not it exactly," Kendra said. "At any given moment, there was choice. Not counting the rape, I mean. Or at least, it felt like there was still choice. But at the same time, you're just so inclined in that direction all the time ... and it feels_ so damned good_ ... it's just really hard to resist, and after awhile I guess I didn't even want to. I _liked_ him." She swallowed hard, and had to take a moment to recover. "In his own way, he was very good to me. We're here, aren't we?"

Ikeda raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Can you show me any belongings he may have had?"

"They're in our cabin," Kendra said, and took her there.

Ikeda instantly latched onto Vehlen's padd. "What's on here?"

"Oh, lots of stuff. Family photos ... some videos of extremely questionable taste. I don't read Romulan, so I can't really tell you everything that's on there."

"This could help our linguists and exo-anthropologists immeasurably."

Kendra said, "But..."

Ikeda turned around. "What?"

"Those are the only pictures I have."

"This entire matter is going to be fully classified, you must realize that."

"Yes, I know, but..." It hadn't really hit her that Starfleet would whisk away every trace of Vehlen, just as the Xindi had managed to wipe out virtually every trace of her family. "But they're _mine."_

Ikeda gave her an appraising glance, and must have decided to humor the crazy rape victim, since she said, "I'll provide you with some copies. But you must never share them. If anyone sees them, you'll have to explain that he was a Vulcan you once knew. Can you do that?"

"Of course. Thank you, Lieutenant. It means a great deal to me."

Ikeda's return smile was tinged with pity and embarrassment. She said, "I need to upload this whole thing to the station computer anyway." She took a padd out of her own pocket. "Let me see how to get it going.... Ah, there, I think this will do it."

Suddenly an alarm started to blare loudly. A Romulan voice started counting.

Ikeda's face paled. "What the--?"

Kendra dived for Vehlen's translator, which she'd stowed in the satchel, and held it up. "...minutes .... WARNING ... Auto-destruct in four minutes fifty-six seconds ... WARNING ... Auto-destruct in four minutes fifty-four seconds ..."

_**To be continued...**_


	18. Conclusion

**_And the conclusion... _**

* * *

The screen on Vehlen's padd lit up and Vehlen's voice came out of it, speaking in English. "I told you I had my limits. I strongly suggest that you get off the ship, if you're still on it, before it blows up. You have less than five minutes." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Good luck."

"You bastard," Kendra muttered, even as part of her admired him for getting the job done.

Ikeda had her communicator out, but a transporter beam took them both before she could say anything. She and Kendra materialized in Jupiter Station's main transporter room, along with various other dazed members of the intelligence team. At the station, it was a Starfleet alarm that was blaring.

"Where are Trip and T'Pol?" Kendra demanded.

The young officer in engineering stripes turned to her. "Commander Tucker is trying to stop the auto-destruct sequence."

Commander Garcia said, "And Commander T'Pol is moving the ship further away from the station. Don't worry, we should be able to get them both in good time, if we have to." He turned to the engineer. "How the hell did this happen? Did you touch something?"

"No sir, I swear!"

Ikeda exchanged a haggard look with Kendra. She said, "I tried to upload one of the Romulan's padds to our computer. Apparently that triggered something."

Garcia scowled.

She handed it over to him. Kendra could see files flashing rapidly across the screen. Garcia cursed. "It's reformatting itself. This guy was pretty thorough. I hope he didn't find a way to blow the whole station up, too."

"He wouldn't do that," Kendra said.

Garcia frowned at her but said nothing.

"What about the bodies?" Ikeda said, and turned to the transporter tech. "Can you beam out any of the bodies in the cargo stasis unit?"

The transporter tech looked bewildered. "What am I supposed to lock onto?"

Garcia sighed and shook his head. "That entire cargo area was shielded by sensor baffles. I want you to stay locked on Tucker and T'Pol." He tabbed the comm. "Commanders, status?"

"Momentum will continue to carry the ship. I suggest you beam us back now," T'Pol said, but Tucker interrupted, "Give me a little more time!"

In the background, the alarm was still blaring. Kendra still had Vehlen's translator in her hand, and it was warning, "Auto-destruct in two minutes thirty-two seconds ... WARNING ... Auto-destruct in two minutes thirty seconds ..."

"Get T'Pol," Garcia said, and she soon materialized. "Where's Commander Tucker?" she said.

Garcia lifted his hand in a 'wait' signal. "Status, Commander Tucker?"

Trip's voice was frantic. "There's got to be a way to stop this. I don't know why the master code isn't working. I've pulled every connection I can get my hands on... Maybe I should just try to disengage the cloak, somehow... You could try to beam it to a safe location..."

"And if it's booby-trapped?" Kendra said. It seemed to her that Vehlen's warnings had an unfortunate tendency to be accurate.

Trip didn't respond. T'Pol shared an alarmed look with Kendra and then closed her eyes, though whether it was in despair or frustration or simply to focus, Kendra couldn't tell.

Over the open comm channel, Kendra's translator picked up "WARNING... Auto-destruct in one minute sixteen seconds ... WARNING ... Auto-destruct in one minute fourteen seconds."

Garcia said, "Commander, I'm not sure we really _have _a safe location. Not if that thing could blow up."

T'Pol hovered over the comm. _"Trip,"_ she said.

"I still have a minute!" he responded.

T'Pol clenched her jaw and waited as the countdown moved inexorably down to thirty seconds and beyond. Suddenly a different alarm started blaring in the background and small explosions could be heard. Trip said, "Damn it!"

T'Pol yelled, "BEAM HIM UP NOW!"

A moment later Tucker materialized, still all in one piece, and they turned to the view screen. The short nacelles on either side of the cargo ship were beginning to dance with energy. Ten seconds later, a white-hot explosion ripped through the entire ship, blowing it to bits. Moments later, the station bucked gently.

Garcia was the first one to speak. "I should have known it was too good to be true."

Trip scowled at Kendra. "I guess he really didn't want us to get our hands on that cloaking device." Then he turned to T'Pol and said, "I had to try."

T'Pol stared back at him, her eyes wide.

He gave her an odd little smile and lifted two fingers to brush the back of her hand so quickly that Kendra wasn't sure anybody else in the room even noticed it, or would think anything of it if they had.

"Hopefully that translation device will still be helpful," Ikeda said, and held her hand out to Kendra. She gave it up without protest.

It was over.

x x x

Kendra spent the next month in the rabbit hole that was Starfleet Medical, being poked and prodded and counseled and debriefed and prescribed by the tiny group of doctors who had been cleared to discuss her adventures with her. Every once in awhile, a new group would show up, either from Starfleet Intelligence or from Internal Affairs, which indeed wanted to know more about what had happened to the Romulan crew.

She wasn't under arrest, but it was clear to her that they expected her to stay on base, keep quiet, and cooperate.

She had seen Trip and T'Pol occasionally during the first week. Trip's face was often stormy, and T'Pol also looked tense. Kendra was consulted exhaustively about Trip's injuries and conduct; clearly, there were concerns. Then the two of them disappeared. She didn't try to initiate any communication. She feared Internal Affairs might think they were conspiring, but no charges had been brought.

On the morning she woke to a request for an afternoon meeting from Commander Tucker, she tried not to feel she was getting away with something by rearranging her schedule to see him.

Kendra was pleased to see that T'Pol was with him. They both looked much better and were fully groomed and uniformed, so apparently they had been cleared for active duty. Maybe nothing was going to happen, then. Maybe it was just as T'Pol had said.

"How's debriefing going?" Tucker asked.

"Awful," Kendra said. "They think I'm nuts. Mating bonds don't hold a lot of weight in modern Human psychiatry. So clearly I'm, you know, suffering from some combination of Stockholm Syndrome and post-traumatic stress disorder, magnified by unresolved grief over my family's loss. Which makes me an imminent danger to any starship crew unlucky enough to have me." She knew she sounded bitter: she _was_ bitter.

"Perhaps I could ask a Vulcan physician to speak to them," T'Pol said.

"I already suggested that. I think they don't want to have to explain to any Vulcan physician why his or her knowledge would be the least bit relevant."

T'Pol turned to Trip. "Perhaps _we_ should talk more to them about the nature of mating bonds."

He grimaced. "I can't say I fancy that idea. I wouldn't worry too much about it, Kendra. They can't afford to hold back even halfway qualified people right now. Gardner will yell at somebody and they'll clear you for duty. You'll probably get posted back out there sooner than you want to be."

"And you two?" Kendra asked. She turned to Trip. "Are you now in charge of getting the fleet spaceworthy?"

Tucker and T'Pol exchanged glances. "That was never Starfleet's plan," Trip said. "Admiral Jefferies is in charge of that effort. T'Pol and I each have our own ships to get manned and ready. We get our official commissions next week." He frowned. "Of course, they're not the same ships we would have gotten if we'd been available earlier."

"Those ships have already been lost," T'Pol observed. "Ironically, our captivity may have saved our lives."

Trip said, "Far too many good people have been lost. We need to get out there, already, and stop those bastards."

Kendra said, "Aren't you concerned about not serving together?"

Tucker said, "Yes, of course. But the needs of the many..."

"...outweigh the needs of the few, or the one -- or the two," T'Pol finished.

"You're not planning to take inaprovaline for the duration?" Kendra asked Trip, a little aghast at the thought.

"No, no," Tucker said. "You're the one who said maybe a full bond would be better than an incomplete one. Apparently we completed the hell out of it." He smiled affectionately at T'Pol, whose eyebrow went up in silent commentary at his way of putting it.

"Most bond mates function quite well even at vast distances," she said. "We have experimented and now believe we can do the same."

"Oh, good," Kendra said. She wondered how they'd found time to do that. But then, she'd been fully submerged in debriefing hell.

T'Pol said, "Doctor Gonzalez, my ship will need a physician. If you are returned to active duty within the next few weeks..."

"Hey!" Tucker said.

"You are free to attempt to recruit her as well," T'Pol said, a touch frostily.

"Well, I'd love to serve with either of you, if they'll let me." Privately, she knew she would choose T'Pol -- if only because she suspected the Vulcan could use a friend more than Tucker, who made them more easily.

She frowned as a new thought occurred to her. "So Vehlen was wrong about Starfleet's war plan. Or did they change it?"

T'Pol looked uncomfortably at Tucker, then said, "Lieutenant Remley was not who Vehlen thought she was. In fact, she was an experienced intelligence officer. She had determined early on that Vehlen was not human, but she erroneously believed he was a Vulcan agent. Starfleet fed him false information in the hope they could follow the trail back to elements in the Vulcan government who had been associated with V'Las. And it did help them identify some operatives who we now realize were Romulan. Unfortunately, they committed suicide before they could be interrogated." She added, "Needless to say, all that information is classified."

Kendra nodded. "Yes, of course." She was glad these two trusted her, even if Starfleet Medical didn't.

So Remley hadn't just been some pathetic victim of Vehlen's machinations. "I'm glad he never found out," she murmured. "He would have hated to be wrong." Indeed, she doubted he would have helped them at all, if he thought he'd given his superiors inaccurate information.

"Actually, there's a reason we came to see you," Tucker said. He looked at T'Pol.

"Trip has asked me to marry him," T'Pol said. "And I have accepted."

Kendra grinned. "That's wonderful! Congratulations to both of you."

"_Enterprise _is too far away for any of our friends there to make it," Tucker said. "My parents are coming, but T'Pol doesn't have any family here. We were hoping you could come and be our witness."

"I'd be honored," Kendra said. "When is it?"

"Tomorrow at 1000."

Kendra's jaw dropped. "You're not wasting any time."

T'Pol looked perplexed. "Why would we wish to?"

Trip grinned. "Vulcans don't take honeymoons, but I want a few days off with my bride. So... it's tomorrow morning. At the chapel on base. Nothing fancy, we're just getting it done."

"I'm sure I can rearrange my sessions. I take it Starfleet knows?"

He nodded. "Yeah. But they're going to keep it quiet. If the identity of the Romulans ever gets out to the general public, it could get a little dicey for me and T'Pol, not to mention Earth/Vulcan relations. I'm sure they've already emphasized that over and over to you." He scowled. "I can't even tell my parents the real story. They just think we were captured by Orions. And I can't go into any detail about that, either -- not that I'd want to." His face clouded.

Kendra nodded. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

They all looked at each other for a moment, as if conscious that they were each other's only witnesses to all that had happened. It occurred to Kendra that they might never speak of it again, even amongst themselves.

But they would know.

And that was something.

x x x

The next morning Kendra stood in Starfleet Chapel in one of the rectangles of light pouring in through the great bank of windows that seemed to march up to the stars, and watched as Charles Tucker III of Earth and T'Pol of Vulcan exchanged the simple words that would legally bind each to the other as husband and wife.

They were all three in uniform, as were the Starfleet chaplain and Admiral Gardner, who apparently had invited himself to stand at Tucker's side. Fortunately, Trip didn't seem to mind the last-minute addition to the wedding party. He looked tall and resolute and serious, every inch the ship's captain he was about to become. T'Pol was her usual impassive self, except that her eyes, when they met Trip's, softened into something that Kendra guessed might be gratitude, or relief.

His parents sat in the front row of the nearly-empty chapel, looking solemn and anxious. It was understandable, Kendra thought: their son had just returned from one horrific adventure and would soon head out into a terrible war. And they had already lost a daughter. But she was pleased to see them smile broadly when the chaplain pronounced the couple man and wife, and they both looked appropriately teary-eyed when T'Pol indulged their son in a quick public kiss. Kendra decided they would cope just fine with a Vulcan daughter-in-law.

After the ceremony Gardner shook her hand and said, "I've heard good things about you, Doctor Gonzalez. I suspect you'll have your choice of postings soon -- that is, if you really want to get back out there after what you've been through."

"I do, sir," she said. "I want to do my part."

"Then your ... relationship ... with Mr. Vehlen hasn't lessened your interest in fighting the enemy?"

"No sir. I think I understand better than most that we _must _fight them."

"I know he told you that he thought we would lose this war," Gardner said, cocking his head. "What do you think?"

"I think Vehlen was wrong about many things."

"Yet you don't harbor any hatred for him." Gardner was clearly doing his own quick appraisal of her fitness for duty.

"No sir," Kendra said. "I eventually came to understand that he was a good man by his own standards. But I would never want to live under Romulan rule. We must not allow that to happen. It would not be good for us -- or for them."

"For them?" Gardner said, clearly a little taken aback. "You care about _them?"_

Kendra grimaced, thinking of the smiling faces of Vehlen's dead children. "To the extent that he could not have been the only man like him in the Romulan Empire, then yes, I care about them. And to the extent that I care about the welfare of _any_ sentient beings, then yes, I care about them. But don't worry, Admiral. My loyalty lies with Earth, and Starfleet."

Gardner nodded approvingly. "Well, then. I'm sure they'll have a few more hoops for you to jump through over at Starfleet Medical, but frankly, I think you can expect to be cleared for duty very soon. Right now we need any capable hands we can get -- and I would consider yours far more battle-proven than most."

"Thank you, sir."

After all the requisite hugs and congratulations had been exchanged, Kendra excused herself so she could go back to jumping hoops. It was comforting to think there was actually some point to it now.

She slogged up the path toward the Starfleet Medical building. After relatively little time in space, her body was finding San Francisco's hills much fiercer than usual. She stopped to catch her breath and looked back down just as Charles Tucker II snapped a photograph of his son and his wife standing side by side in front of the chapel.

Trip and T'Pol looked so small and vulnerable standing there in the larger landscape that Kendra felt a chill of foreboding. Their respective ships would be infinitely tinier in the vast expanse of a brutal interstellar war.

She dearly hoped these two would survive the war and get to live happily ever after, bickering and debating and fighting and coming together again in that profoundly electric way of theirs.

Beyond them, San Francisco Bay sparkled under a blue sky studded with clouds. What was it Vehlen had said? "Such a lovely planet. All that open water."

She sighed, suddenly keenly missing him -- and Ruben and Hector and Gabriela -- so profoundly that her eyes filled with tears. She was alone in the universe.

But Earth was still here, and all of humanity.

So she turned back to the path, and went on.

**THE END**

Thanks for coming along with me on this long, freaky ride. A review at this point would be much appreciated.

Thanks again to my betas Escriba and especially JustTripn. I should also express my gratitude to some web sites consulted in creating this story (which I won't bother to give you links to, since this site will strip them out):The Star Trek Wiki - Memory Alpha, Central Institute of the Romulan Language, and Chrissie's Transcripts Site.


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